Say Hello, Say Goodbye
by driter
Summary: Time changes everything. Almost. DASEY. Future Fic.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is a future fic and a bit AU. Casey's fresh out of college and Derek the military at the beginning of the chapter. And the rest you'll figure out as the story progresses (all questions should be answered later).  
**

**This is my first attempt at Dasey, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated :). **

* * *

She remembered the sloppy letters and rushed emails he sent her years ago: two stories, a porch, a lake. He'd buy it and stay there in peace until the evaluation was over. It wasn't completely finished, but he'd fix it; work on the fences and painting, chopping wood, learning all the things that outdoorsy people did, like hunting and fishing and hiking. It was foolish, but charming.

Now she stood before the cabin--a moody, motionless box on a hill of dirt and dying dogwoods--and it made her heart and her stomach hurt.

She paused on a creaky step, sighed, and skipped over a splintering one, before reaching the top of the struggling porch and tapping her fist weakly to the door.

He didn't answer, but she didn't wait, and she couldn't help but feel the faint tug of déjà vu as she intruded into his cabin, into his space.

It was stale. And boring. And surprisingly clean, she noted, as her heels clicked dully on the hardwood floor. The front room was empty save for his stubborn, immortal recliner and an absurdly large flat screen. She rolled her eyes, but it drew her; and soon her fingers traced lightly over the worn, aching fabric of the chair.

She murmured, "Everyone thinks you're going crazy. That this is some sort of 'episode' or something."

The creaking behind her stopped and she turned calmly, eyes catching him.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I'm still deciding."

"Yeah; me, too."

Derek's lips tilted, a half-assed smirk, and she felt suddenly homesick. For…something. If it was him, she was disappointed, because this wasn't him. The infuriating, cunning eyes were now a wary, muted brown. The impish, dimpling face was rough and bearded, hiding. Even his lanky limbs had hardened into something lean and foreign. And the knee brace brought a shadow of weakness she'd never associated with him before.

"You didn't have to come here," he said.

"Well, it was either this or the real world, right?" her smile was wistful, "I'm just glad you're back and okay."

"Yeah," he whispered.

It was silent for a moment as Casey watched him and Derek shifted awkwardly. "Can I hug you?" she asked.

"Um, I don't-"

Casey sighed and hurried to him, arms wrapping tightly, protectively around him and cutting him off.

"You're tense," she said into his neck.

"Sorry," His hands twitched tightly at his sides, "I'm not used to being touched like this."

"Sorry."

"It's okay."

But, he pulled from her and Casey reluctantly stepped back.

"I'll show you your room."

--

"You're here; right next to me."

"What, are you going to tuck me in at night?"

Her brow arched and she was surprised to see Derek's cheeks pink under the forest of face. He ducked his head.

"Might be the only way to get you in there without injuring yourself."

"Cute."

Her attention moved to the sparsely decorated room, and Derek's stayed on her as he leaned in the doorway.

She looked trendy. He didn't completely comprehend what made a girl "trendy," but he recognized it when he saw it. Her once long, dark hair was now sunkissed and chopped right above her shoulders, her forehead draped with bangs. She was thin and tan, so much so that there were freckles escaping around her nose and cheeks. And, she walked with more confidence and maturity than he was used to.

"You look good."

Casey's eyes widened as she turned from the closet she'd been inspecting. After a few beats, she quipped. "I'd say you looked good, too, but I'd be lying." She gestured to the scruff on his face. "You look like Teen Wolf."

Derek rubbed his beard, reflective, but not self-conscious. "In my troop we always had to be clean shaven. So a bunch of us made a pact to grow it out as much as we could when we left."

She nodded. "And you're all going along with it?"

His eyes flickered, darkening, before cooling again. "Everyone that made it, yeah."

"I'm sorry. That was stupid-"

"No, no, it's fine," Derek swallowed uncomfortably, but continued, "Nigel says it's good to talk about it."

"Nigel?"

"My shrink."

--

"Can I get you anything?"

Casey shrugged, eyes still surveying as she followed him into the cramped kitchen quarters. "What do you have?"

"A bunch of stuff. I went to the grocery store and I…" he paused, looking sheepish, "I couldn't remember what you're supposed to get, so I got everything."

"Can you even cook?"

He shook his head and her lips quirked gently for him.

"Sit down; I'll make you something."

"Thank you," he said and sat patiently on a stool

Casey froze and flashed him an incredulous look. "You're abruptly polite."

"I'm trying to be more sincere."

"Nigel?"

He nodded and looked annoyed; and Casey smiled again before opening the fridge.

--

Derek watched, bemused, as Casey took over the kitchen, strategy shining in her features as she moved from cabinet to fridge to stove and back again.

"I feel like I should be helping," Derek said.

"And, yet there you are, sitting on your ass."

His back straightened, but when he caught the teasing glance she sent him over her shoulder, he relaxed. "The meals were always prepared for us on the field. I know more about assembling guns than ovens."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

She exhaled, blowing harried bangs from her face and plopping on a chair across from him. Derek's gaze fell to her left hand, where her fingers tapped lazily.

"You're not wearing your ring."

"Oh," she glanced down quickly, "Ryan and I…things didn't work out," she shrugged and tried to make it seem nonchalant, "So much for promise rings, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No; I'm not," he admitted. He shifted abruptly in his seat, "And promise rings are stupid anyway. You can't promise anything."

"You can promise some things. Like love; loyalty-"

"You can't even promise those. You can just try. That's all you can do."

"That's really…" she leaned forward on her elbows, sighing and staring at him, "Depressing, Derek."

"Tell me about it."

The oven dinged and Casey looked both intrigued and relieved as she stood and turned from him.

--

"This is really good," Derek said, spinning another forkful of pasta.

"Ancient Italian recipe."

"Really?"

"No," she said, smiling. She watched as he shoved the entire chunk in his mouth, "Just Prego."

"It's good," he said again, and it was silly, but she felt warm with satisfaction as he devoured another forkful.

Her cheek fell to her palm and she studied him thoughtfully. "It's probably been a while since you've had a real meal, huh?"

He nodded. "Sometimes the natives would take a few of us in, but, uh…I couldn't recognize most of the food. Or pronounce it."

"So no hoagies in Afghanistan, huh?"

"No hoagies. No ribs. No pancakes…" he trailed off and looked at her mournfully at the last word.

"Well, I'll have to fix that."

He grunted his approval and dug back in. Casey sorted her own plate before glancing back and blurting, "You should call home."

"Case-"

"I know, I know, it's weird; but they miss you. And, they're worried. We're all worried."

His lips thinned and he set down his fork, sighing. "I will. I just…I want to fix everything before they see me; make sure everything's…right."

He looked at her imploringly, and Casey nodded, slowly, reluctantly, and returned to her plate.

--

She'd been there less than a day and the bathroom was already ruined. Powders and creams and brushes and other unidentified female objects cluttered the bathroom sink, and Derek grunted to himself as he sorted through it all. He sighed when he finally found his soap and reached to shrug off his tee. He was reaching for his bottoms when his eyes flickered to cabinet. It was Casey's body wash.

He remembered how it used to smell, how she smelled, and his fingers reached instinctively to grab it, take it in.

"Having fun?"

"Casey," Derek said, spinning toward her as the bathroom door creaked open, "Hey."

"Hey," she repeated bemusedly.

"I was just-"

"Smelling my soap?" she offered a-matter-of-factly.

"Right."

He cleared his throat and stiffly handed her the bottle. "Just an urge," he said dumbly.

"Right; cause that's not weird."

He rolled his eyes at her critical look and gestured to the shower. "Do you mind? I could use some privacy."

"Well, the door was open. But, please, don't let me interrupt your covert bathroom investigating."

"Just leave," he said tensely.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

She was halfway out the door, when she turned suddenly, almost smacking into his flustered form. "What's that on your chest?"

"A vision of the Virgin Mary; now go."

"Derek," she chided, cutting him off and stepping back in.

Derek moved back uncomfortably as her eyes stuck to his chest, studying the fading, but jagged scar just over his heart. Wordlessly, her thumb reached to trace it and he let her, before hissing, "_Casey_."

"What?" she asked, at once retreating.

"Just-just…don't do that."

His voice was low, firm as he pulled his shirt hastily over his head.

"I'm sorry," she said again, indignant, "Why are you so prickly?"

"Why are you so touchy?"

She huffed. "Well, excuse me for being a normal human being who requires contact every once a while."

"Like you're normal."

He grumbled something else under his breath, turning from her, and Casey's face heated as she reached out and gave his arm a mean pinch.

"Hey."

"Any other rules I should know about?" she asked, "Am I allowed to look at you? Breathe in your presence?"

"Stop being difficult; you're supposed to be helping."

"I'm trying to help, but you're being all whacko."

"Well, helping me without touching me would be great, thank you."

"Pfft, trust me, you won't have to ask again."

"Good," he said scowling as she marched through the door. He eyes widened and he called out into the hallway, "And, don't forget.: eight o'clock tomorrow."

--

"Nigel can be a little eccentric," Derek said as the dusty Civic pulled onto the main road, "But he's helpful."

"Sounds like Paul," she said, smiling slightly as she looked out the window.

"Uh, sure. If Paul was old, white, and British."

His fingers began drumming lightly and then more rapidly against the steering wheel and Casey sent him a sideways glance.

"Are you sure _you're_ ready for this?"

"Of course; I trust you."

His gaze flashed from the road and then sincerely onto hers and Casey nodded. "I know. That's why I'm here…I just…it seems like this whole thing's gotta be a little stressful. One man standing between you and 'sanity', from society, from returning to everything you know and love."

Derek blinked. "Was that supposed to calm me?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Derek looked anxious, but shrugged it off, moving on. "He's going to ask some questions about you, about our relationship, just to get some perspective; nothing personal."

"How could this not be personal?" she asked, voice holding hints of shortness.

"I didn't mean it that way. Of course it's personal, because it involves you. I just meant that this is all about me and my state of mind. I know you don't like sharing personal stuff, so I was just putting that out there."

Casey sighed, shoulders relaxing a little as she leaned back, "I'm sorry," she said, "I guess maybe I am little nervous."

"It's fine."

His eyes flickered to hers and then back to the road as they pulled into the Dr. Nigel Park's driveway.


	2. Breaking the Surface

**Thanks for the feedback :)**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**1: Breaking the Surface  
**

--

They made an odd pair, Nigel thought as he peered out his office window. Derek was clothed in his usual carelessness; his hair short, but disheveled, his clothes loose and unmatching, and his gait stuttered by his brace. Casey—or 'Case', as Derek often referred to her—seemed much the opposite. She strutted, almost with pep, and everything from her boots to her hair clip seemed styled and methodically picked out.

Both looked reluctant.

"Intriguing," he muttered before closing the blinds.

--

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss MacDonald."

Casey smiled politely as she shook the tall British man's hand. "It's nice to meet to you, too."

"Ah, well no need to lie," Nigel said, waving her off, "No one likes therapy save for the 'shrinks'--as Derek calls them. Now, take a seat; the chairs delightfully await your arrival."

Casey quirked a brow and Derek simply shrugged as they 'arrived' at their seats. When they got there, Casey took a moment to study the room, but mostly the shrink. He was large, almost plump, and incurably happy. He had shaggy, graying brown hair, a cleft chin, and glasses that seemed rounder and thicker than most people felt appropriate to wear.

Casey's eyes flitted from him and stopped. "Why are there gnomes here?"

"Oh, those?" he glanced casually at the rosy-cheeked ornaments, "I thought they added a certain…_je ne sais quoi_."

He was greeted with blank looks as he settled at his desk.

"Now, Miss MacDonald-"

"Casey."

"Excuse me: _Casey_," he said, emphasizing the correction, "Please; tell me about yourself."

"Isn't that your job?"

Nigel moved to respond, but was surprised to find Derek silently chastising her. She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything," Nigel said, "Just act as if you were meeting a new acquaintance, a friend. How would you introduce yourself?"

She shrugged and crossed her right leg towards Derek, considering. "Um, okay, well…I'm Casey. I'm 22 and I just graduated from college a few weeks ago; pre-med."

"What school?" Nigel said, casually taking notes.

"Harrison College, in London."

"So your hometown, then?"

"Right," she paused before continuing, "And, now I'm-"

"But, that's unusual, no? For someone so exceptional to stay in their hometown for college? Homecoming Queen, president of the Drama Club, top of her class?"

She glanced at Derek, sensing he and Nigel had been chatting about her quite a bit. Derek's gaze hid on a gnome.

"I suppose," she finally said.

When she went no further, Nigel persisted. "So, why then, did you decide to stay home?"

"Many reasons. It was cheaper, smaller, close to friends…"

"And your family."

"Right. Obviously." She sighed and she looked perturbed as Nigel wrote something else.

"So, Casey. Tell me about your senior year of high school."

Her eyes turned up and her jaw tightened. "What's there to tell since clearly you and Derek have already discussed this."

"Casey," Derek whispered.

"It's fine," Nigel said, "It's perfectly normal for this to be uncomfortable. But, it's also perfectly necessary for the purposes of this evaluation to get another perspective."

"What do you want to know about my senior year?" she forced out.

"Start with your parents and go from there."

Casey exhaled and sent Derek a long, warning look before continuing. "Well, George and my mom started fighting. A lot...At first it was no big deal, even kind of funny... But when it didn't let up things got tense."

"How so?"

"I dunno," Casey began twisting her hands, "George stayed at work later and my mom…she started taking out frustrations on us because he was never home. Then I think she started to feel overwhelmed having to manage all of us by herself, so…she was home less, too. It wasn't like her--or him," she added, looking to Derek, "It was just…a really difficult time for everyone."

"And, how did this affect you and your siblings?"

"Well, it was hard on all of us. But, hardest on our younger siblings, of course, especially Marti. I think she was too little to understand what was going on." She smiled slightly, sadly, "Sometimes Derek would come up with these goofy, fantastical stories about why they were gone so much. Superhero fairs and week long rollers coasters..."

She stopped, her blue eyes searching and finding his, communicating something Nigel couldn't quite pin.

"So, in a way, you both took care of them, your brother and sisters?"

"Yeah, I guess. Derek and I tried really hard to keep everyone happy and calm and fed—most of the time," she finished with a breathy laugh.

"But, I'm sure there were some consequences, sacrifices?"

She nodded, looking down. "Yeah. I had to drop the school play. And, Derek…his school work really suffered and…he lost his scholarship. Which, of course, pissed off my mom and George even more…"

Derek stiffened as she continued.

"It was hard. But, eventually things cooled down between them. And, by the end, we were all a lot closer. Especially me and Derek. I really learned to trust him...to depend on him-"

Derek snorted and two sets of eyes jumped to him.

"Is something amusing?" Nigel asked.

"No, it's just," he looked at Casey and paused, his growing confusion mirroring hers, "Casey never depended on anyone, let alone me. She was always organizing things, holding everything together on her own. I just tried to limit my screw-ups-"

"That's not true; you helped me. All the time . I needed—I needed…"

"You needed him," Nigel said for her when she couldn't finish, "But you understood him leaving for the army?"

"Of course," Derek said on autopilot, staring at her, dumbfounded.

"I was referring to Casey."

Derek sighed, watching her sideways as she answered, "Yes; of course. I mean, how I could not? He was totally stressed out, he couldn't do hockey, our parent's were fighting," her voice caught, "it was a really hard time for him…"

"And it wasn't a hard time for you?"

"Of course it was. I already said that."

"Yet, you stayed."

"I had to."

"But, he didn't?"

"No," she said instantly.

"Why?"

"I don't-I don't know."

"_Why_, Casey?" he asked again.

"She said she didn't know," Derek said, voice rising.

"Yet, ironically—as matters of mind and heart tend to be—she seems to feel she does."

"Sure, I _feel_ certain things; but I can't know that any of them are true, or real."

"But, what do you feel?"

"I-"

"Can we just stop this?" Derek interjected.

"We could," Nigel said, "But, in order for your treatment to be most effective, your relationship with Casey should be open, safe. And, as of now there seem to be several currents of…tension, to say the least."

"Well, duh; we don't like each other."

Casey sent him a cross look and Nigel chided, "Sincerity, Derek."

"I hate sincerity," he grumbled, "Sincerity makes people crazy and overdramatic and-and overemotional."

"This session is officially over."

Nigel's brows hopped and Derek balked as Casey rose from her seat.

"What?" Derek questioned.

"You basically just said everything I'm feeling is kooky melodrama."

"I did not say that."

"Oh, sorry," she held up both hands, "Then you must have been referring to 'Suzie', your other invisible step-sister in the room."

"Casey-"

The door slammed shut, and Derek sighed before turning slowly and with frustration back to Nigel.

"Happy?"

"Why yes, actually. I'd say we've made much progress; broken the surface if you will."

Derek grunted and slid back in his seat, "I can't believe you get paid for this."

--

"So. 'Nothing personal', huh?"

Casey's glare pinned him as soon as he entered the car and he sighed.

"I'm sorry, okay? I couldn't predict what he'd bring up. And besides, I told you he'd be asking questions about us."

"Questions? That was more like an interrogation."

"No, much nicer, trust me."

Casey sent him a quizzical look as he started the engine. "Ugh, let's just get back."

"Fine, but..." he turned to her, eyes filled with question as he softly said, "You never told me."

"Told you what?"

"How you felt. About me leaving."

"There was nothing to tell," she said lowly.

"But, in there you-"

"Session's _over_, Derek."

He sighed and hit the gas.

--

"I'm going for a swim."

Derek craned his neck over the recliner and watched as Casey trotted to the front door, clad in a bikini top and wrap. "It's getting dark."

"I'll bring a night-lite, 'daddy'."

He rolled his eyes, but stood nonetheless as she slipped on her flip-flops.

"I'd go with you," he said, "But, I'm sort of...ridiculously afraid of water." Off her bewildered look, he shrugged, "Yeah, it's a new thing."

"Hmmph; well, I guess it's good I didn't invite you then, huh?"

Derek winched and watched the door slam in his face. Again.

"Damn, Nigel."

--

Several minutes later, Derek headed outside as well, a smelly, bloated bag of trash in tow. He grunted and tossed the bag into the dumpster; and, when he turned, his eyes fell on Casey wading in the lake.

Even yards apart, he could see, if not feel, her gaze burning into him. He scowled, but couldn't seem to steal his gaze from her until she finally dunked under the water.

"Spoiled brat," he cursed.

He sighed and headed for the cabin. After a few steps he glanced back and she was under.

Halfway there, still under.

When he reached the bottom step and he didn't see her, he tensed and stepped down.

"Casey!" he called, hands cupping around his mouth, "Quit it; it's not funny!"

He rolled his eyes and moved closer, trying to stop the tugging in his gut. When he counted, slowly, neurotically to twenty in his head, he blinked, and then took off across the field.

"Casey..._CASEY!!"_

He kept screaming until his voice was raw and he could feel the panic and the nausea and the burning of his knee as the seconds stretched before he finally broke the water.

--

_"__Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Thirty-sev...­­ ­_Ahh!"

Casey gasped, swallowing water as she was yanked to the surface and pulled roughly against Derek's chest. She was in his arms by the time they reached the shore, spitting up water and shock as he lay her to the ground.

"It's okay," he panted, "I got you; you're gonna be okay."

"Oh, god," her face twisted and she coughed up more water, "What, are you trying to kill me?"

"Kill you?" Derek's face smoothed in confusion, "I'm trying to save you."

"Save me from what? Boredom? I was just holding my breath."

She exhaled, exasperated, as she pulled herself up and Derek shrunk back.

"Holding your breath? _Holding your breath?!"_

His face reddened impossibly and his eyes squeezed shut before he jerked and stomped back to the cabin.

--

"Get away from me," Derek said as Casey ran after him, nearly on his heels as they entered the cabin. His eyes were hot and dark, and Casey's breath hitched when he turned to glare at her, "Now."

"Why-"

He answered by taking the stool, lifting it over his head, and smashing it to pieces against the counter.

Her lips quivered. "Derek_._"

"Go away!"

His gaze was both empty and on fire as he grabbed a glass and threw it to the wall.

Casey shrieked and jumped back. "_DEREK_," she tried to pry into his gaze as she held up her hand, "I don't know what's going on, but you are really, really, _really_ scaring me right now."

She could see the fight in his eyes as his fist lifted to the wall, shook, wavered, and then finally fell.

"Just go," he rasped, face contorted as he slumped to the counter.

"I can't."

Her steps were slow, ginger, but determined as she walked towards him.

He pleaded, "Casey."

His chest was heaving, and when she looked at him he seemed more scared than anything else.

"It's okay," she said, praying she sounded less freaked out than she felt, "I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay, okay?"

He groaned and his hands scrubbed his cheeks, his forehead, his scalp. "I'm not okay."

"Yes. You are."

"I'm messed up, Case."

"No. You're not. You just saved my life," she tilted her head and conceded, "…kind of. And you ran with your brace and you got in water--so-so that seems to be utterly the opposite of messed up."

His head shook and his lips were white from tightening. "It's just…I get so upset and I don't…I can't…" his jaw tensed and he faltered, "Nigel says I'm transferring or-or tr-tra-transforming or-or something…it's a big word I don't really know-"

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," she nodded urgently, "It's gonna be okay; just look at me, alright? Breathe and look at me."

He was sweating and Casey wiped the wetness from his brow and his cheeks as he swallowed and stared down at her.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, his head dropping limply to her shoulder.

"It's okay," she tried to steady her own breath as she helplessly stroked his neck and murmured, "It's okay."

* * *

**This was a really hard chapter to write and I'm still not sure how it turned out. So any and all feedback is appreciated.**

* * *


	3. Needs

--

**Really, **_**really**_** appreciated the feedback from the last chapter. Thanks for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy the rest...**

* * *

**2: Needs**

--

"He is not okay; he is just…_not_!" Casey cried, shoving past the flustered therapist and into his living room.

Nigel blinked, mouth agape as she stormed towards his office, bunny slippers slapping, clothes ruffled, and apparently damp.

"There was breaking and screaming…"

Nigel followed her, speedily but reluctantly. "Casey, I can't understand you and it's late-"

"…water and diving and heroic quasi -rescuing..."

"Casey-"

"…and-and he was like the Hulk, but not all cool and fun and green and-"

"_Casey_," he tried again, eyes soft, yet insistent, "Sit; breathe. Please."

Casey turned to him, sighing, and then plopped into the chair Nigel held for her.

"Now count to seventeen," he murmured, "And, then begin again. Slowly."

"Why seventeen?"

"So you can learn to relax, and not to over think things," he said, his head ducking to hide a small, bemused smile.

"Oh, right, okay," she sighed and began mechanically, "1…2…3…"

--

"…and he just freaked, breaking chairs and glasses. I mean me and Derek have fought harder than any two people on the planet, but I've never seen him that angry."

"But, you were able to detain him?" Nigel asked, face creased with concern now as her story unfolded.

"Well, I think 'detain' is a bit strong of a word, but yes. I calmed him down, got him Yoohoo, and he went to sleep."

"Yoohoo?"

"It's a thing he has," Casey said, "I don't get it either."

Nigel nodded. "And, he didn't harm you in anyway?"

"Harm me? Of course not," she answered instantly, almost defensively, "He tried to save my life. I mean, it was slightly delusional, but he tried to save my life."

"I meant no offense. Yet, in the past when he's had these incidents, he was very violent. Mostly to objects, but still."

Casey's face fell with a sigh. "This has happened before?"

"Perhaps it would be best for Derek to explain it to you in detail," Nigel answered quietly, "But suffice to say it's not the first time, no. Yet, it's all very puzzling," he rubbed his neck, "It's been quite a while since his last episode, and one's never occurred out of uniform. You see the trigger is usually an intense situation or threat, not simply imagination."

His lips pursed and he asked her, "How long were you under water?"

"I dunno," Casey looked up from worrying fingers, "Forty seconds or so."

"Forty seconds?"

"Yes," she answered slowly, watching his demeanor shift.

"That's a very long time to hold your breath."

"Well…I'm good at it."

"But, you knew he was watching you?"

"Well, yeah."

"And, yet you still chose to stay under as long as you could?"

There was a long, slow beat, but she answered, "Yes."

"And, you were also aware of his fear surrounding water?"

"He told me that, yes," she said tightly.

"Considering all these things, could you really argue his reaction was 'delusional', and not quite rational?"

"Well, 'considering' I wasn't really drowning, I'd say yes; definitely."

"Casey," Nigel shook his head, sighing, "Your actions required a very rational panic."

"I did _not_ do that on purpose," she hissed, "I would never do that to him."

"Of course not. And, I'm in no way suggesting that you intentionally staged a mock drowning. But," he leaned forward, voice lowering, "Could it be that somewhere, deep in your unconscious, you actually desired him to come after you?"

"That's really twisted, Nigel."

"Twisted, messy, irrational…human-"

"Wrong," she finished.

He shifted at his desk, raising calming hands. "I assure you, these are all very natural emotions for people who've felt abandoned."

"Abandoned?" she said, "I'm not a lost puppy, okay? I'm an adult. I don't get 'abandoned.'"

"Of course not. You're a very intelligent, capable, independent young woman…"

"Yes; I am."

"…who doesn't need anyone, any help, or anything. In fact people most often need you; to take care of them."

"Yes-no-wait, what? Is this a trick question?"

"It's not a question at all. It's simply a restatement of what I'm hearing you communicate. I'm trying to," he gestured vaguely with his hand, "Help you peer into your mirror, if you will."

"Well, you're hearing wrong then. That makes me seem so robotic, self-absorbed. Of course I need other people. I'm not God, or-or Oprah or something."

"And, you admit that one of these people is Derek?"

She let out a long, frustrated breath. "Yes. Before he left, I thought I needed him there. But, he left anyway and things worked themselves out."

"'Things' didn't work themselves out, Casey; _you_ worked them out. So one could argue that you didn't actually need him at all."

"That's not true," she said quietly.

"But, it has to be. Either you needed him and he left and things didn't work out. Or you didn't need him and he left, and it didn't actually matter," Nigel tilted his head towards her, deferring, "What do you believe to be the case?"

"I…" she huffed and shook her head, "I don't know, I guess…I guess I didn't need him then."

"Which is most convenient when you think about it. Since he left and you couldn't stop him; just like your father-"

"Okay, that's it!" Casey snapped, bursting from her seat and to the edge of his desk, "I've put up with your crappy psycho-babble and ass-like presumptions," she ranted, "But, where do you get off talking about my past and my father and Derek like you know anything about them?!"

"Then tell me about them!" Nigel's yelled back, hands smacking to his desk as he stood with her.

"They left me! I didn't understand it and I wanted them to stay and it hurt like hell; but I made it!"

"So you didn't need them then?"

"How can you need someone who doesn't need you back?!"

Casey gasped, stepped back and collapsed into the seat.

"Or perhaps more pertinent," Nigel said, his own tone calming now as some tension left the room, "What kind of man deserts the person who depends on them most?"

Casey shook her head, swallowing back. "Derek's a good person. He wouldn't…just… no," she whispered.

"Unless he didn't know. Or doubted."

It was silent for a long, heavy moment as Nigel took a seat.

"It will be his inclination to withdraw from you; to feel shame."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Casey breathed, voice utterly hopeless as she rested her face in her hands.

"Be vulnerable. Share what we've discussed today."

"Ah," Casey laughed without any mirth, "I _cannot_ do that."

"Yes," Nigel assured her, "You can."

--

Clinking and the smell of bacon stirred him, and Derek grunted, yawned, and then slowly turned towards her.

"Casey?"

"Hey," she said, sitting on the edge of his mattress. He looked anxious and she reached to brush hair from his forehead, her hand lingering long enough to leave comfort, but not tension.

"I have to tell you something," she said, "And, it's really, really hard for me to say. So I need you to just stay here and listen for a second, okay?"

Her hand lifted and fell on the on the other side of him, and almost all he could do was nod. "Okay," he whispered.

"You hurt me when you left," she began, sighing, "And I didn't want to say anything because you were doing a good thing; it would've been selfish to take that away from you. But I missed you… _so much._ And I felt…" she shut her eyes, and submitted to the words, "….abandoned and unwanted. And, I was angry because you didn't seem to feel anything but suddenly gaga over leaving."

Derek was silent, chest rising faster as she continued.

"And now, now I feel…" she trailed off and shifted over him, forcing herself to keep his gaze as she continued, "I feel that I still need you. But, I'm afraid, because I don't want you to leave me again."

She felt like her heart was twisting and pulsing on a giant JumboTron before him as he lay there, eyes stirring, but wordless. "I need you, Derek," she said and her voice shook.

"But it's okay; you don't have to say anything. Nigel said you probably wouldn't—what with you being emotionally impotent n' all."

He bristled. "I am _not_ impotent."

"Of course you'd focus on that out of everything else I've said," she sighed and rose from the bed, the mattress shaking slightly, "I'll be outside…if you want to talk, or anything."

She didn't look at him again and Derek stared, frozen, at the ceiling as the door closed.

--

"I don't want to talk about anything weird."

Casey heard his voice and then the chair scratch the kitchen floor as Derek sat across from her. He set his plate and his cup between them.

"Okay," she said dumbly.

He cleared his throat and took a few quick bites of his pancakes. "This is good."

"I put cinnamon in it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

--

"Casey, you're welcome to join us now."

"Alright."

She dropped the magazine—which she realized she hadn't even been reading, but twisting—and stood from the living room chair.

"Derek and I were simply catching up," Nigel explained as they entered the room.

"Alright," Casey repeated blankly, taking the lonely chair beside Derek.

He wouldn't look at her, and he seemed tense, even somewhat agitated. She glanced questioningly at Nigel.

"Derek. Is there something you'd like to say to Casey?"

"Yes," Derek said after a long moment, his eyes briefly flickering to her, "I would never hurt you, physically."

"Of course," Casey said, eyes switching confusedly between him and Nigel. She watched as the therapist nodded at Derek, encouraging him.

"And, I care about you," Derek said, quietly and with much uncertainty. He grasped for the words, "Very…very deeply." His face twisted the moment he finished, "That sounded stupid, didn't it?"

"Sincerity may feel strange for the first few tries," Nigel answered, smiling softly. He cleared his throat and turned to Casey, "Now, Casey—Casey?"

"Um, I'm sorry, what?" She blinked and dragged her gaze from Derek.

"Do you have a response?"

"Besides speechlessness?" she said, Derek watching her warily.

"Yes. Something to positively reinforce, or-or rather to reward his sincerity."

"Um…wow, I dunno," her face was soft with surprise as she looked at him, "Ditto?"

"'Ditto.' See? Quite the reward indeed; no?" Nigel asked him.

Derek nodded stiffly, but instantly. "Yes."

"Good," Nigel clapped his hands together theatrically, "Then I suppose it's time to really begin."


	4. Fun and Games

**I swear you guys are the best reviewers ever. I really appreciate your thoughtful feedback.**

**Hopefully, this part should be more light hearted ****J… (I don't mean to completely depress any of you)**

**--**

**3: Fun and Games **

**--**

"Beautiful day, is it not?" Nigel asked, bouncing pleasantly down the hill as they followed.

Derek and Casey shared wary glances.

"W_hat does he mean, 'I suppose it's time to begin,'?" _Casey had groused the night before in her dreadful British accent_, "How could we not have started yet? What's next week? Electroshock therapy?"_

She scowled at the back of his head as they approached the camp grounds.

--

"Let's play a game."

Nigel reached into his messenger bag and Casey's face scrunched.

"It's not gonna be a fun game, is it?" she asked, "It's gonna be one of those freaky deep-rooted-issue-bearing _un-fun_ games."

"Not necessarily—if you do it correctly."

They watched curiously as Nigel handed them each walkie-talkies.

"You and Ed used to be so annoying with these things," Casey mumbled.

"Heh, yeah. Good times." Derek smiled and clicked it on.

"I'm going to blindfold one of you," Nigel explained, "And, take you with me to a-"

"Derek volunteers," Casey blurted.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Fine. But you didn't even let him finish. Maybe I'm getting a brand new car."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Casey smirked as he stood beside Nigel.

"Very well then. Derek will come with me; you'll stay here. I'm going to take him somewhere on these grounds. And, it will be both of your jobs to find each other, using only your walkie-talkies and…"

"Small, pink, trendy G.P.S. devices?" Casey tried, shoulders swaying, and eyelashes batting.

"…And your surroundings," Nigel finished, but not without a soft, amused smile, "When you're done, call me and we'll go from there. Maybe have smores."

Derek's looked beyond unenthused. Yet Casey's eyes lit and her hand sprung up. "Can I blindfold Derek?"

--

"_The maverick has landed_."

"For the last time, I am not calling you 'maverick', Derek."

She heard some muttering on the other end and rolled her eyes.

"_Whatever. Just stay put; I'll come find you_."

"No, we can both move, it'll be quicker; or I'll find you."

"_Casey_, _I think I have just a tad more experience with this than you do._"

"True; but I have a great sense of direction."

"_Right; like when you got lost in that Big Walmart for an hour_?"

Casey huffed and he said, "_I'm coming to get you_."

"No; you're not. Because I'm already moving toward you."

"_You don't even know where I am!_ _Look, would you trust me for god's sake?_ _I'm not a _complete_ screw-up_."

"And, I'm not a damsel in distress."

"_No. You're the girl who never gets saved 'cause she's so damned difficult. So come and get me_."

--

"Found you," Casey said, dropping her walkie-talkie as she appeared on the path.

When his back stayed towards her, his gaze burning into a nearby tree, she asked, "What?"

"Why'd you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just…totally veto me like that. I know what I'm doing. I might have had issues, but I was a good solider."

"I know that," Casey said, eyes narrowing as she stepped towards him.

"But, you don't trust me enough to let me find you in some stupid game? You just…" he shook his head and glared at her, before snatching his gaze back, "You make me so angry. I should've just left you there and got the damn smores on my own; I'd be done by now."

"Right, because you just move so briskly with your bum knee."

His head fell and he turned back away from her. "You're so difficult."

His tone tugged at her chest and she instantly wished she hadn't said it. But she wouldn't take it back. "Let's just go," she sighed.

--

"Have fun?"

Derek sent Nigel a smoldering look, and his smile faltered.

"Ah, that's unfortunate."

"Like you didn't plan that," Casey said, arms crossed and her eyes shinning with frustration.

"I didn't," Nigel said truthfully, "The outcome of the game always depends on individual choices and actions."

"Fine; then she screwed it up!" Derek barked, his voice ripping out of his throat before he could stop it.

"How did I screw up, Derek?" Casey snapped back, "By finding you? Winning the game? Bruising your obnoxiously bloated ego?"

"I knew your location. I walked the path. _I _had the experience," Derek said, getting in her face.

He knew they wouldn't strike each other, but Nigel intercepted them none the less, putting space between.

"Alright now. Why don't we all take a seat, grab some Yoohoo," he said pointedly, "And discuss this calmly?"

Derek eye's flickered to the cooler. "I'll take the Yoohoo. But I'm not talking to her."

--

"The point of the game," Nigel explained as the two of them watched rather tensely on the grass, "Is establishing trust and control. Eventually, someone has to back down and let the other person find them. It is then the job of the first person to guide the other, giving the clues to their location."

"That's what we did," Casey interjected.

"Ah," Nigel raised his finger meaningfully, and Casey decided she hated when he did that, "But, the trick is, you must agree on the correct dynamic for your relationship. Although in fact both are participating, one almost always will be perceived as having more control. That leaves the question of who that person should be."

"I should have the control in the relationship," Derek said instantly.

"Why, because you're the man?" Casey hissed.

"Yes," he said bluntly, "But, mostly, because I'm me."

She turned to Nigel. "You see how much of an arrogant ass he can be?"

Nigel's eyes widened slightly, leaning forward. "Alright," he began slowly, "So obviously this is a source of tension."

"No. _She's_ the source of tension."

"I will be the source of _pain_, if you keep pushing me," Casey said, smacking his shoulder.

Derek glowered at her and Nigel interjected, rubbing his temples tiredly. "Are you familiar with the term 'reaction formation'?" he asked.

"Of course." "Of course not."

The two glanced at each other, annoyed.

"In psychology it refers to when we reject our true emotions or inclinations and act in a way we perceive to be more appropriate, or comfortable. For instance, a child feeling angry towards his grandmother may actually go out of his way to treat her kindly."

"I'm confused," Derek said quietly, "Who's the old woman here?"

"It's not an analogy, it's an example," Casey explained impatiently.

"Casey," Nigel said, pulling her attention from Derek, "How did you feel when Derek said he'd come find you?"

"Well, bitchy, apparently," Derek muttered.

Casey stiffened and Nigel stepped in, "Derek, please; restrain yourself. I'll expect the same from Casey when I ask _you_ personal questions."

That seemed to silence him, and Nigel turned back to her, nodding. "Now, Casey," he said again, "How did it make you feel?"

"Good," she admitted, almost a whisper.

Derek's face stretched in surprise, then confusion, and then agitation. "That doesn't make sense. I wanted to do something for you, you wanted me to do it; that fits. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Look," she snapped, "I'm not good at this stuff, okay? And you always make it so damn difficult with your damn cockiness."

His mouth opened to counter her, but then it shut, and he sighed. "Well, can you fix her?" he asked, turning to Nigel.

"Because the problems all lie with Casey of course," Nigel deadpanned.

"Well, I didn't do anything wrong."

"Forced arrogance does not encourage trust or vulnerability. Trust and vulnerability-"

""…encourage trust and vulnerability," Derek and Casey finished together, eyes rolling.

Nigel looked a bit sheepish as he nodded. "Right. Exactly. I suppose I've said that already."

--

They took a short intermission, Derek and Casey sitting together, yet not speaking as Derek nursed a Yahoo. When Nigel noticed they were comfortable, he walked over to Derek, sat down, and rubbed his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked, leaping from the grass.

"Touching you. Is that a problem?"

"Considering you're another man, yes; I'd say that's a slight 'problem'."

"So then if Casey were to massage you, that'd be acceptable?"

Casey arched a brow and Derek's eyes flashed to her uncomfortably. "But, why would she do that?"

"Why wouldn't she? She seems to be a very touchy-feely person."

"Derek doesn't like P.D.A.," Casey informed him dryly, "Or D.A."

"That's not true," Derek said, mouth thinning as he looked at her.

"Fine," she bounced from the ground, spreading out her arms, "Let's hug, Derek."

He scowled at her and she turned dramatically to Nigel. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, 'Exhibit A."

"So it's obvious you'd not prefer to touch large, British men," Nigel began slowly, "But, is it also true you'd prefer never to touch Casey?"

Derek shook his head, clearly annoyed by this. "Yes, sometimes I'd like to touch her," he answered truthfully, "But, I don't…" he sighed, "…know how to or what's okay, or…anything."

"And, you'd like her to touch you?"

He sighed, "Yes."

"That's ridiculous," Casey said, "He always acts like I have cooties or something, like I'm some sort of freak."

"You are a freak," Derek said automatically and Nigel frowned.

"Derek," he responded patiently as Casey glowered at him, "You are aware that these comments do nothing to achieve your goals, yes?"

"But, she frustrates me."

"She intimidates you," Nigel countered, "Because she embodies aspects of emotional intensity and expression that you're uncomfortable with. But, you're not a teenager anymore; you're a man. And you must rise above that."

Casey watched the two men, eyebrows rising as Derek—almost inexplicably—sat there. Listened.

"Isn't that right, Casey?" Nigel asked.

"Isn't what right?"

"That he's a man."

She pursed her lips . "I'm tempted to say 'duh' here, Nigel."

"Yes, factually this is indisputable. But, how do you view him?"

"As Derek," she answered blankly.

When she looked to him, Derek was staring back at her, eyes unreadable. "As a man," she said for him, although she wasn't sure why he needed to hear it.

--

"We're going to try an exercise," Nigel said, standing again.

"Nothing strenuous, right?" Casey asked, "Because I'm wearing capris."

"No. It's more of an emotional exercise."

"Oh, goody," Derek muttered.

"I need you to stand about ten yards away from each other."

"And, we're not sprinting, right?" Casey questioned again over her shoulder, "Because these capris, they're tight."

"No sprinting, Casey," Nigel answered, somewhere between impatience and endearment as he shook his head.

Derek stopped, looked around, and slapped his thighs. "Well. That was fun. Anyone up for smores?"

"We're almost done, don't get sassy," Nigel said, stepping back from them, "Alright. Now, I'm going to ask you to walk closer to each other at different points. And each time, I want you to tell me what you're feeling. Understand?"

They both nodded and Nigel began, "Take three steps towards each other."

They complied.

"Now how are you feeling?"

""Bored,"" they said at once, and then snickered at each other.

Nigel rolled his eyes, yet continued. "Alright then, three more steps…"

They continued the exercise, Derek muttering wisecracks intermediately, until they were closer, less than a foot apart.

"How do you feel now?"

"Anxious," Derek said honestly.

"Why?"

"Because," he sighed and looked Casey in the eyes, "I never stood this close to anyone. Unless they were going to hurt me…or I was going to hurt them," he finished darkly.

"Dere-"

"I'd never hurt you," Casey interrupted, "And, you would never, ever, ever hurt me. You protect me," she said and it sounded both childlike and fierce, "At least that's what I feel. I feel safe," she said, turning to answer Nigel, before turning back to him, "And, hey; the fact that you could probably tear an elephant in half with your bare hands actually kinda helps."

She smiled, and the way she said it made his chest puff.

"Okay, then," Nigel said, fading into the background, "Take one last step towards each other…"

They both did.

"And, Derek; hug Casey."

She snorted. "Please, like he'd ev-oh."

Her breath caught as he pulled her to him. But she didn't fight it, and his hands moved, strong and new against her back, her shoulders, making her feel tense and comforted at once. She sighed into his chest and he pulled away.

"Was that okay?" he whispered, his head ducking to catch her gaze.

"Yes," she whispered back, "Less of a sneak attack would be nice though."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said and reached to give his tee a light tug.

Casey cleared her throat and glanced down. And, Derek, too, looked uncomfortable at this being witnessed.

"So," Nigel said, grinning, "Smores then?"

--

"You're doing it wrong," Derek said over her shoulder, "You can't eat smores without marshmallows."

"But, they're all sticky," Casey whined.

"Give me that."

He rolled his eyes, took the graham-cracker-chocolate monstrosity and smushed his marshmallow into it. "Ewww."

"Just eat it."

"No, it's _sticky_," she said again as if he'd offered her a worm to eat. "You ruined it."

"And, you're ruining the campfire."

"I am not ruining the campfire," she replied indignantly, "You can't have a real campfire without at least three people. So if I wasn't here, you'd just be two men, standing around a fire at night."

"Standing around a _camp_fire."

"Right; like that's any less sketchy."

"So I take it this is paying homage to your high school days?" Nigel inserted, lips twitching as he watched them.

"And, if you'll notice," Derek said, thumb thrusting at her, "She started it."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and Derek could do nothing but smirk as she stomped to her seat. He hesitated for only a moment before walking over to her, and sitting down with her.

"Eww, get away from me," she teased, nose scrunching.

"Trust me; I've been trying to. But you won't seem to disappear."

"Why don't you close your eyes, click your heels three times, and wish really, _really _hard?"

He smirked, his eyes shut, and he was only mildly surprised to feel a smore smack him in the face.

--


	5. Goodbye, Apathy and Welcome, Unknown

\**Hey, guys. I'd write a Haiku on the awesomeness of feedback, but that would be less time to write this, so bygones…;)**

**This chapter's shorter, because it's mostly transitional. Details about Derek's time in the military are coming in the next few chapters.  
**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**--**

**4: Goodbye, Apathy and Welcome, Unknown  
**

--

Derek followed the aroma from his doorway, to the steps, and then finally to the kitchen as he came bounding towards the stove, eyes lighting boyishly.

"Is that for me?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," she answered, "It's for Nigel."

Casey pulled foil over the dish, and Derek frowned. "Oh."

"This," she said, reaching for a larger, towering plate of pasta, "Is for you."

"Sweet."

"You're welcome. Now, I gotta go."

"Gotta go where?" he asked, one hand instinctively grabbing for her and the other the food.

"A parallel dimension--to give him the food, doofus."

His hand dropped, but then he hulked over her, leaning into the counter. "But, the more food you give him, the less food you give me."

"Good math." She patted his chest. "But, actually, it's the opposite. You always brood and I feel annoyed, then guilty; so I ended up cooking like three times as much." She sighed. "There's more in the fridge. And, the freezer."

"Nice."

"You can come with if you want?" she said, slipping her purse over her shoulder.

"Ehhh, that's okay. I think Nigel and I see each other _just _enough for my taste," he shrugged and cut into his lasagna, "Plus, I got some painting to do."

"Water color?" Casey guessed, "Because that's the only paintbrush I'd trust you with."

He sent her a cross look, and she held up her hands, "And, I'm shutting up…right…now."

"Thank you," he said tensely before shoving the food into his mouth.

--

"He's painting. That's good."

Casey sent Nigel an incredulous look from over the dinner table, where they sitting and sharing the lasagna.

"Sure. That's one perspective," she muttered.

"And, the other?"

"He's going to a ruin an already tacky looking shack," she answered, "I mean Derek was always running around trying to act like a handy man in high school, and he never got anything right."

"Exactly. It's a sign of healing," Nigel explained, "Is there cilantro in here?"

"Yes." Casey beamed. "Thanks for noticing. Every time I add new spices, Derek thinks there are bugs in there or something."

"You think about him often," Nigel said after a moment.

"Well, sure. What else is there to think about?"

"School, your family, your future…yourself," he finished pointedly.

"Unh uh, Nigel, none of that," Casey said, pointing her fork at him, "You promised not to psychoanalyze me if we were going to do this."

"Ah, touché," he conceded, "Old habits as they say," His eyes lit, "…ooh, are these red onions?"

--

"Enjoy your lunch date?" Derek greeted her, smirking as she shut the car door behind her.

He'd somehow managed to find an even rattier shirt than usual and was standing on the porch, clothes, hands, and arms peppered with paint.

"Yes," Casey said, "Nigel is very pleasant company. Unlike some oafs who shall remain annoying."

"Ha. You do know I'm his favorite, right?"

"Are not!" she cried.

He snorted and she slid over to him, swatting his arm. When she rolled her eyes and glanced at the still untouched porch, she asked, "Are you gonna try to get any of that paint on the cabin?"

"I'm uh still figuring things out," he said sheepishly.

She touched his back, squeezing his left shoulder, and smiling at him. "You're doing good."

"Yeah...? Did Nigel tell you to say that?"

"Yes," she said honestly.

His gaze shadowed. But, her hand stroked his beard, placating him, his eyes flutterring as he leaned into it. When they opened again, warm like they were years before, she felt her tummy pull, and her hand dropped like it'd touched fire.

"I'll be inside," she blurted, eyes wide.

"Why?"

He frowned when he was answered by speedy heel clicks and the door closing shut.

--

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

Derek stared disbelievingly at her as she stood at the sink for no apparent reason.

"You're gonna tell me you didn't just scurry away from me like a giant spider was chasing after you?"

"Well, maybe you should take a hint then."

He bristled, head jerking back. "I was just asking. What's your damage?"

She sighed, but she didn't want him close to her--which he inevitably would be if she was nicer--so she ignored him.

"You're so god damn bitchy."

"I hate it when you call me bitchy," she snapped reflexively.

"Well, I hate it when you act bitchy," he said, stepping into her space, "Which is about ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of the time."

"Well, if I'm so bitchy, why don't you find something better to do than hover over me?" she said, shoving into his chest.

He stumbled back, his knee buckled, and she shoved him again. He gritted his teeth and he walked into her, grabbing her wrists roughly.

"You trying to hurt me?"

"No!" she yelled at him.

"Then what are you doing?"

His hands softened and he tugged her arms down, but didn't let go. "What are you doing?" he asked again.

"I don't know," she breathed.

She still tried to yank away from him, and he held on.

"Stop it," she hissed.

"No, you _stop it_," he growled.

She shook with frustration, smacked his hands away, and then reached for him, her arms wrapping around his torso. Derek stiffened.

"Am I supposed to be holding you?"

"I don't know," she said again.

But, when he didn't, she huffed, untangled her arms and walked away.

--

"You're so difficult," Derek said in her doorway, pushing the door open.

She lay on her bed, back towards him, and curled up, clutching a small, red teddy bear.

"Leave me alone," she said.

He walked to her anyway, face smooth as a stone as he sat on her bed, behind her. He reached for the bear, plucked it from her, and tossed it to the floor.

"Hey."

"What is that, Ryan's?"

She didn't answer and he was angry; but his palm reached for her bare shoulder anyway, thumb stroking.

"You're getting paint on me."

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered and she could feel him shifting over her, "What do you want me to do?"

She shivered and her eyes closed as his hand kneaded; but, the feeling frustrated her and she pulled away from him. He sighed and his fingers reached for her again. And again she shifted.

"What do I have to do? Just tell me and I'll do it." Her back stayed to him. The bed creaked as he straightened, and she could hear his voice tighten as he continued, "Or what? Do you want Ryan to touch you instead?"

She flinched and turned to him; and his gaze was hot with agitation.

"I'm not wearing the stupid ring, you asshole."

"I can still see the tan line." His jaw flexed. "You wore it for like what, three years?"

"Four," she said, glaring at him.

His hand jumped back from her and clinched, his face twisting. She saw his eyes flicker with pain before closing off.

"And, you keep his damn teddy bear, and what? Hold it every night in bed?" he barked, face flush red.

"Shut up," she hissed at him, "If I wanted to be with him, I'd be in London, with him."

"You were in London with him. For four years. Did you want him then?"

"No."

"Then what did you want?"

"I don't know," she snapped, "And, it's not even his bear, you idiot; Lizzie gave it to me."

"Right, because that makes me feel so much better."

Her face heated and she turned from him. He was still stiff as a board, yet he sighed and rasped again, "What do I have to do?"

His hand was hesitant, and he swallowed, brushing her shoulder. "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave--hold me," she said and he grasped her elbow, turning her and pulling her instantly against him. Her arms circled his neck, and he pulled her closer into him, his chin resting on her head.

"Why couldn't you just say that?"

--

Derek painted for the next hour. On his knees he started at the right corner of the porch with long choppy strokes, then lapped the brush over them, until he reached the steps. His back hurt when he stood, but it felt good.

"How does it look?" he asked Casey, who was looking out the front door.

"Bad," she shrugged, "But, it's even."

"Yeah, that's what I was going for."

He wiped his hands on his jeans and jerked his chin towards her. "You wanna get down here and help me clean up?"

"Sure," she said, eyes scrunching, "But, you are aware that you've painted yourself out of the house and me into it, right?"

"Oh, shit."

--

"You're so dangerous," Derek said as Casey hoisted herself over the window ledge.

He smirked when she landed not so dangerously and not so gracefully before him.

"Is that why danger's your middle name?"

"Maybe," she said slyly.

Her lips quirked, and that felt ridiculously good.

--

"Is Nigel hogging you for dinner, too?"

Casey sent him a questioning look as she drowned a brush under the hose. "I invited you to come along."

"Yeah, but I didn't want him to 'psychoanalyze' me," he said, making air quotes.

"Well, he actually, 'wasn't that bad'," she said, mocking him with her own set.

"Well, yeah; 'putting up with you' would be 'pretty commendable'."

"What, are you air-quoting the words you can't spell now?"

"Hysterical," Derek deadpanned, pouring out his bucket.

"You forgot to put air quotes around that one."

She smirked and gave his hip a bump before reaching for the next utensil.


	6. Duty and Honor

**Thanks to faithful reviewers :) I will be out of town for a while, so I wanted to get another part out. **

**Warning: some angst ahead. But, I guess that was expected. **

--

**5: Duty and Honor**

--

"Enjoying the view?"

"Yes."

Casey smirked as she heard the front door close and Derek's heavy footsteps approach her on the recliner. He leaned over, hands gripping the chair and tilting it back so he could look at her. "Get out my chair."

"No, I'm comfortable."

"Get. Out. My chair," he said more firmly, head lowering.

She leaned up. "No. I'm. Comfortable."

He released the chair with a sigh. "You owe me food for this."

"Already some in the fridge." She turned to watch him kick off his boots, "What were you doing out there anyway?"

"Chopping wood."

"Why? So you could feel manly?"

"Yes," he answered, "Plus, I want to try out the fire place. Just to see how it works."

"We have a fireplace?" she squeaked, smile beaming just over the back of the chair.

"_I_ have a fireplace. What, do you have one in _your _cabin, too?"

She scowled at him and questioned, "Where is it?"

"Covered by junk in the other room."

"Derek!" she chided, "This place needs some serious cleaning."

"Start anytime you want."

He smirked at her and she pulled her own face at him as he plopped on the pink beanbag—which of course she'd purchased—beside the chair.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

"I dunno; I just flipped to Discovery Channel."

His head dropped instantly, snoring, and she smacked the back of his head. "Hey. It's educational."

"My point exactly." His sighed, but then eyes brightened when he saw the program. "Oh, sweet! Cheetahs attacking dumb gazelles; my favorite."

"What? Ew, no!"

Casey clicked to Lifetime and Derek groaned. "I thought you liked Discovery Channel?"

"I do. But I can't stand seeing such cute, helpless animals being eaten for no reason."

"It's not for no reason," Derek said annoyed, "It's for survival."

"It's _ewwie_," she whined, face twisting, "I hate violence."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Rainbows and sunshine all around."

He stood, and her eyes scrunched, as he headed up the steps.

--

"Eww, eww, eww!" Casey shrieked as she opened the lid, "I don't even want to know what that was."

Casey shuddered and pushed the container to the side before moving to the next box. It was taking her hours, but she was determined to sort out Derek's junk pile and discover this mythical fireplace.

"God, he's so disgusting."

She hesitantly opened the next box and was relieved to find miscellaneous papers and clutter. A social security card. Batteries. A Frisbee. And…

"What?"

--

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Casey cried as she burst into Derek's bedroom.

Derek did a double take and stood from his bed. "What the hell are you spazzing about now?"

"_Derek_; you're a hero."

She held out the medal star, sunbeams practically bouncing off her teeth. "This is so amazing! Does George know?"

"No," he said, grabbing it from her, "And, I don't want him to, okay? No one."

"Why?"

"Because I said so!"

It was the stupidest explanation she'd ever heard him give, but his conviction made her falter.

"Well…well...could you at least tell me how you got it?"

"_No. _Just drop it, okay?" he sighed, "Can't you just…get an apron and find some other annoying mom thing to do?"

She huffed. "Thank you, Casey for helping me clean my pigsty of a house. Thank you, Casey for feeding me and taking care of me. Thank you, Casey for finding my _medal _that I just left lying around a Snickers wrapper."

"No, thank you," he growled back at her.

"Ugh! Ass."

"Don't forget to do the dishes," he called after her.

--

"And, things have been going well?" Nigel asked casually from his desk.

Derek and Casey glanced at each other and nodded.

"Fine," Derek mumbled.

"Yeah. And, Derek's been acting like a gigantic ass, so I'd say things are getting back to normal fast."

"Case," he groaned, "Would you sto-"

"Can you tell me what this is?"

She cut him off and held out Derek's medal. Nigel's eyes popped.

"Why would you bring that here?" Derek hissed.

"You wouldn't tell me what is was for," she said snottily, "So I figured I'd ask Nigel."

"That's because I didn't want you to know!"

She could feel his anger burning at her, and when she saw his face contorting, uneasiness twisted in her gut.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Casey said, trying to keep her voice calm, "It's obviously an honor; I was proud of you, I just wanted t-"

"God damnit, Casey, I slit his throat!"

Derek jolted from his seat and Casey followed, mouth parted, and dropping the medal.

"Derek-"

"I _murdered_ him. And, I knew it was wrong; I knew it was. But I couldn't remember why…"

"Derek," she tried again and he moved from her. She could hear Nigel's chair scooting in the background.

"Then-then they told me it was right. That I was a hero. And, they gave me a medal. And a ceremony," his hand lifted in a fist and his teeth bit his knuckle, "Do you think that makes me a hero, Casey? Or just a monster?"

"Casey, perhaps you should leave," Nigel interrupted, standing at his desk.

"What?" Her wide eyes flew from Derek to him, "No. Why?"

"Because you can't handle this," Derek said.

"No, that is not why," Nigel said, hurrying around the desk.

"Yes, I can. I'm strong," Casey was gripping Derek's shirt so hard it almost tore to keep him close, "I can be a rock if you need me to be."

"He needs you to let him go." Nigel's hands were ginger, yet firm as he tried to move in between them, "Let him go," Nigel said again.

"No."

"Casey," Nigel said softly.

Her face scrunched, but she obeyed, her fingers slipping from him.

"That's a girl," Nigel murmured, "He'll still be here when you come back."

--

The door cracked an hour later, Nigel's wary face peaking through. "Casey, you can-"

"Is he alright?" she pushed by him and Nigel sighed as she rushed to Derek. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, "It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay. Stop saying that!"

His eyes flashed with anger and she shrunk back. "Derek-"

"Casey," Nigel said, "Please take your seat."

She hesitated, but Derek was still turned stiffly from her, so she obliged.

"Thank you."

Nigel slowly sat at his desk, looking much more flustered than she'd seen him before. He rubbed his neck. "Now, Casey. Derek is going to share with you some highly…sensitive information. I need you to listen to him and not comment, or ask questions. Do you think you can do that?"

"If he needs me to, yes."

"Alright."

He shared a look with Derek, who then looked down at his lap, where he was clutching a note card.

"I wrote it all down," Derek said quietly.

"Okay," Casey whispered.

He swallowed, the card shaking slightly. "I was awarded a medal for valor in the face of enemy attack. I…I intercepted an enemy in our camp. He had grenades and other unidentified weapons. He detonated one. And, so I grabbed him and we fought..."

"Keep going, Derek," Nigel said, "It's alright."

Derek's eyes darted to him and then back down. He read, "There was a struggle and then I took out my knife," he swallowed, "And, I slit his throat, and I threw him over it before it exploded. That's how the incident occurred."

Casey didn't even flinch, forcing herself to keep everything unprocessed. "Okay," she said hollowly.

"And, he's not the only man I've killed to serve our country."

"Okay," she breathed again.

"And, I've been stabbed and tortured."

Her lips trembled, but she strangled the tears down.

"O-okay."

"And, they sent me back, because I was no longer mentally fit. Not because I didn't want to stay."

Moisture hit her arm and she realized she was crying.

"Okay."

"But, I-" his eyes flickered to hers, before dropping again, "I wanted…I missed everyone. I just had a job to finish; that's all."

"Well, it was a fucking stupid job!"

Her body shook with the force of her voice, and Nigel came towards them, as Derek jerked back. "Casey, you must contain yourself."

She gasped and fell back into his hold.

"Now, what are you feeling?" Nigel murmured.

"Anger. And pain. And I wish he didn't have to go through any of this for some stupid…for 'his service'," she spat, trying and failing to take some of the venom off it.

"That's selfish," Derek barked at her, "That's selfish."

"You're the selfish one," she snapped right back at him, "Hoarding all this crap to yourself. Why, so you can feel noble?"

"Casey," Nigel tried.

"You can't even stand watching the Discovery Channel; and I'm supposed to depend on you?"

"_Enough_," Nigel cried, "That's enough!"

--

"Maybe it would be best if Casey stayed here," Nigel said, voice quiet as he sat back behind his desk, "And you gave each other some space?"

"And, what? She won't come back until I'm a good boy?"

Casey reached over to take his hand, fingers tangling, even though she didn't look at him. "I'll go home with him."

He shrugged her off and she hissed, "Do you want me to come with you or not?"

"I want you to want to come with me."

"I _do_."

"No, you don't."

"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you about this. We are going to get through this, whether you like it or not," she growled at him, "But, I'm not obligated to like you along every single baby step of the way."

"Are you calling me a baby?"

"Yes. I don't think you're a monster; I think you're a baby."

"Would the two of you just stop it!" Nigel interrupted, "You need each other, so stop being such petty prats."

"I don't know what that means," Derek admitted, "But, this _is _us getting along." He looked at her. "She's coming with me."

--

The bathroom door opened and Casey stepped in, walking in on him on purpose.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, hand jumping from the sink faucet.

"Is that where?"

She gestured to the scar on his chest and he winched.

"Stop it."

"Stop what? Caring?" She asked, voice catching with frustration.

He sighed and his hands gripped the sink as his head fell. "I hate…I hate that you have to see this, see me."

"Baby," she whispered.

"Don't call me a baby."

"No, I mean _baby_,' she said tenderly, the back of her hand stroking his cheek. His gaze gentled vulnerably as she looked at him.

"I'm not going to reject you, okay?" she said, "Even if you are an ass ninety-nine -point-nine-nine percent of the time."

His eyes shut in relief and she began massaging his shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to the back of his head.

--

"It disgusts me," Casey said to Nigel, "Everything about it. I just…I don't even know how to categorize it all in my head."

"And, does Derek disgust you?"

"No," she said instantly, "But, what he did…and what happened to him," her stomach turned, "It's just disgusting."

"But you think him a hero?"

"Of course he's a hero," she answered tightly, "That's what makes you a hero these days, right? Cutting someone's throat open so you can save other people's lives."

Nigel sighed and leaned forward. "It's hard to say what's right or wrong here. But it is okay to be bothered by this. You can reject actions and circumstances without rejecting the person. It's healthy. And, that's what Derek must learn to do. He rejects himself and his actions; he sees no distinction."

"What do you think?"

"I can't answer that."

"Nigel," she pleaded.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"It matters to me."

"As well as to Derek. But, I didn't answer him either."

--


	7. A Time to Heal, A Time to Refrain

**I'm glad you guys have been enjoying it so far. I've enjoyed writing, too. Thanks for the feedback :)**

* * *

**6: A Time to Heal, A Time to Refrain**

--

"They keep calling," Casey said tensely as she scooted eggs on her plate, "I've been staving them off, sometimes even just ignoring them. But I don't know how much longer I can…"

"They're your family, Casey," Nigel said quietly.

"I know. But, Derek has to be my priority right now."

"Quite the opposite actually. You've been integral to these first steps of healing. But, there are some steps he must take on his own," He sent her a meaningful look, "And, some steps you must take as well."

"Are you saying I should leave?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Because it'd be good for him?"

"Yes," Nigel answered, "And for you. You can't shoulder all his burdens in an attempt to neglect yours."

She flinched. "Ouch, much, Nigel?"

"It's a hard time of transition for you: you've left a long term relationship, graduated from college, started to make career choices…reunited with Derek..."

Her eyes flashed as he continued.

"Which poses quite the dilemma for your tidy emotional index. You need time to sort things out, to be with your family."

"I don't want to," Casey whispered, eyes flooding with feeling.

"I know," Nigel said, "And, that's why you must."

--

"I wish I could take you with me," Casey said to Derek's quiet, brooding form, "Like in a little pink bag or something…but I know you're not ready. And, hey… maybe, maybe space would be good."

He glowered at her; but she smiled and tried really, really hard to mean it. "Don't you think?"

Derek didn't answer, but moved towards her instead, his steps faltering as if he couldn't decide whether to be closer or farther away. "It was too much," he said finally, "I freaked you out."

"_No._"

When his gaze retreated from her, she sighed and reached for her necklace, unclasping it. "Hold still."

"Why?"

"Just stay still."

She came to him and he was stiff, his eyes silently fighting her. But, she persisted, reached around his neck, and locked it around him. The thin, gold "C" swung on his chest.

"Would you wear it for me?" she asked, "My mom would probably yank it off anyway she's so mad I haven't been back in a year."

He glanced away moodily. "Right, whatever."

Casey's eyes deflated as she stepped back. And, then she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

--

"She pities me."

"She has very strong affections for you, Derek; there's a difference."

"She takes care of me. And I'm weak," Derek said, seemingly ignoring the interjection.

"You take care of her as well. She's expressed that on numerous occasions."

"No, I don't. I can't give her anything. And, she gives me this stupid, girly necklace to keep for her," Derek muttered, his hand lifting to finger it, "Like we're supposed to be even now or something."

"She underestimated how dense you'd be."

"Excuse me?" Derek asked, finally turning from the window to look at the therapist.

"Gifts of jewelry—particularly rings or necklaces—are generally considered symbols of intimacy and possession in Western culture," Nigel explained as if speaking to a bewildered foreigner, "Especially considering it has her name on it; and not yours."

"But it's a chick necklace," Derek said blankly, "Of course it'd have her name on it."

Nigel sighed and let his head fall into his hands.

--

"Space is healthy, especially in areas of emotional healing," Nigel said to Derek as they walked to the park, "You have to learn to accept yourself and cope apart from Casey, and she as well apart from you… No matter how difficult it may feel for both of you."

"I wonder if she'll see Ryan," Derek said absently, glowering off into the distance, "He was always around her, hovering."

"Derek," Nigel chided.

His eyes darted back sheepishly. "Sorry."

Nigel looked at him for a long moment, sighing as his grey eyes searched Derek's. "You think of her often?"

"Yes."

"For these next two weeks, you must think of yourself, Derek. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said again, and he tucked the necklace under his collar.

--

"On this side, we're going to write down the names of all the men you've killed," Nigel said, sliding the notepad between them on the park table.

"I…I don't know any of them."

"The number?"

"Five," Derek mumbled.

"Don't mumble it," Nigel said, "Give it respect and say it clearly."

"_Five_," Derek said stiffly.

"Five people whose lives you took," Nigel said. He drew five ticks on the pad and Derek winched. "Now; the names of the men and women you've saved?"

Derek's brows furrowed. "I can't…I," he shook his head, "I know some of them, but not all…and I can't…"

"It's an infinite variable," Nigel interpreted for him, "All you can be sure of is the lives you've taken. And, so naturally you fixate on them."

Derek stared at him, wordless.

"I want you to answer a question for me: If you could do it all over again, would you kill the man whose life earned you a medal? Or would you show mercy and let him live? When you've decided, come back and find me."

--

"This is a stupid question," Derek grumbled as he stalked back to Nigel, "It's a trick. I'm a horrible man no matter what I do. If I let him live, I'm a coward and a failure. And, if I kill him, I'm a monster. There is no answer."

"Exactly."

Derek sighed and collapsed on the ground before him, watching.

"As the Good Book says, in life there are seasons for everything:

_a time to be born and a time to die,  
a time to plant and a time to uproot, _

_a time to kill and a time to heal,  
a time to tear down and a time to build, _

_a time to weep and a time to laugh,  
a time to mourn and a time to dance, _

_a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,  
a time to embrace and a time to refrain, _

_a time to search and a time to give up,  
a time to keep and a time to throw away, _

_a time to tear and a time to mend,  
a time to be silent and a time to speak, _

_a time to love and a time to hate,  
a time for war and a time for peace.'"_

"What is this? A sermon?"

"Yes," Nigel said quaintly. Derek quirked a brow as he continued, "You were met with your time to kill, to protect; and you faced it. Therefore you must not see this as a medal of shame, yet as a medal of honor in the midst of the most horrifying of times; times in which good and evil seem almost relevant, and honor, honor is the only thing that remains."

"But, how can I know if I was right?"

"Sometimes you can't know. Sometimes you can only do what you believe is right, just. And if you find yourself erring, then you must learn to forgive yourself."

Derek's forehead creased with confliction as he looked to the water. "If I had to do it all over again, Nigel…I'd still kill him."

Nigel nodded solemnly. "I know. And, if he had it to do over again, he'd kill you and as many of your men as he possibly could."

--

"How does it feel?" Nigel asked quietly.

"Good. Bad. I don't know."

"Try it and decide."

Derek sighed, eyes flickering between emotions, before he cocked the gun.

"Your file said you were very skilled at this."

"I liked it," he admitted, "The power. And the control."

"At a cost of course."

"Always," Derek said.

He turned and squinted into the sunlight. A distance from them stood a line of makeshift targets; cans and jars.

"How'd you get this?" Derek asked.

Nigel's lips quirked. "Everyone has a gun here."

Derek fired and missed completely. He glanced to Nigel, agitated. "I'm just a little rusty."

"Naturally. Try again."

--

"How are the dreams?"

Derek shrugged and sipped his beer as they sat together on the porch.

"Better."

"Can you see their faces now?"

"Yes…I don't know how to feel about that."

"Do you speak to them?"

"Yes."

"And, what do you say?"

"That I'm sorry," he answered, "But, I think they can tell that I don't mean it.'

--

Derek lifted the rifle and aimed. His jaw twitched and Nigel whispered, "Why aren't you shooting?"

"Casey," he muttered, "I just…see her floating around in my head telling me how 'ewwie' this is."

"Well, do you think it's wrong?"

"No," he answered quickly, "It's a deer; not person."

"Then you can't let others' opinions turn your insecurities into guilt. It's your choice."

He sighed, aimed the rifle, and the next instant the deer was dead on the ground.

"Nice shot," Nigel said, mouth parted.

"Thank you."

--

It felt wrong. And in his head he could practically hear her whining and telling him to leave. But Derek pushed the door open anyway.

His gaze traveled the room, taking in all the changes: the pictures, the dolls, the colors, and the scents.

He let his feet take him to her bed, and he sat there, his rough hands gripping the fabric.

--

Nigel's door swung open.

"Casey."

"Derek, we've already discussed this…"

"I know. But it won't stop. It just keeps getting … _worst_," he finished with frustration.

"True affections don't wane, Derek, of course. But, you are in no condition to begin a romantic relationship; especially with your step-sister. And, _especially_ with Casey MacDonald, with whom the attachment is already so volatile."

"Then what I am supposed to do?"

"You have to remember that there are levels of affection, not all romantic. And, whether she knows it or not, Casey desires, needs to experience all of them. So don't skip sidewalks, as they say…"

"Cut corners," Derek corrected.

"Right, corners, sidewalks, whatever the metaphor...in the long run she'll appreciate that more. And, when you're both in a different position, maybe then you can discuss…further possibilities," Nigel said, clearing his throat.

Derek murmured under his breath, "Further possibilities…" His brows furrowed and he looked to Nigel, "Tell me more about these sidewalks."

--

"You look very pretty."

"Thank you."

Nigel smiled and Casey returned it as they met at the bus station. She looked happy, refreshed, and more rested than he'd ever seen her as she reached to give him a hug.

"You look very handsome yourself," Casey said, "The bowtie's a nice touch."

"Why, thank you."

Nigel grinned and Casey tried to suppress a giggle.

"Was it a nice trip home?"

"Yes. As usual, you were right," she said, rolling her eyes, "My mom was less homicidally-angry and more ecstatically-happy to see me. And," she sighed and shrugged, "…it felt really great to see everyone, too."

"And, Ryan?" he asked quietly.

Casey's lips pursed and she reached into her pocket book. "We had a good talk. He gave me this back…"

She held out a small, silver ring and Nigel frowned. "And, you accepted it?"

"Well, yeah, I mean…we're over—and I think he really gets that now—but…it was still a big part of my life, you know? It felt weird to just throw it away."

She tucked it away along with the thought.

"I thought about the other things you said, too," she went on.

"And, did you process?"

"Mmmhmm…"

--

"So he's been good?"

Nigel glanced from the road and smiled. He was surprised she'd waited this long.

"Indeed."

Casey nodded, her foot tapping restlessly. "No…episodes or anything?"

"Not to my knowledge. He seems to be progressing quite nicely."

"Great."

Her teeth worried her bottom lip.

"He's probably annoyed I'm getting back. I think…I think he felt like I was smothering him or something."

Her face was downcast as she stared at her fingers, twisting them, and Nigel glanced at her, indecision dancing in his features.

He sighed. "Quite the opposite actually."

"Excuse me?"

Her eyes jumped to his.

"He's inquired about you incessantly."

"Derek?" She laughed softly. "Never."

"No, I insist. It became a bit obnoxious actually."

Nigel's voice was colored with complaint, but he was smiling. Her head ducked and she tried to fight back a blush, her eyes shinning with satisfaction.

"Are we almost there yet?"

--

When the jeep pulled in, the front of the cabin was empty, quiet. There was an axe left carelessly in a stump of wood and a few discarded paint buckets, but no Derek.

Casey murmured, "I wonder if he forgot…"

The door swung open and Derek appeared, only in jeans—which he was fumbling to button in one hand—and a towel scrubbing his head in the other. When he was finished drying, he set the towel on the rail and stood eagerly at the top step.

"Derek," Casey breathed.

The lock clicked, and she jumped from the car, sprinted through the grass and up the steps where Derek met her and they embraced.

Nigel turned away.

But, when he turned back after a few long moments, and they were still hugging, whispering to each other, he sighed and left the car.

--

"…believe you wore it," Casey was saying to Derek as Nigel started the steps.

"Well, yeah, you gave it to me," Derek answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Casey's eyes softened and she squeezed his midsection a little tighter as he continued, "I mean yeah, it's lame and girly, but you know…Plus, according to Nigel, in Western cultures, gifts of jewelry—especially rings and neck..la..ces…"

He trailed off as Casey nodded and pulled gently on the chain, bringing his head closer to hers.

"You're ruining a nice mome-oh!"

Casey shrieked as Nigel "accidentally" bumped into her on his way up the porch. She sent the therapist a quizzical look.

"Oh, pardon me," Nigel said, smiling sweetly, "I'm hopelessly afflicted with clumsiness."

Casey shrugged it off, although frowning somewhat, and Nigel sent Derek a pointed look over her shoulder.

"Um, yeah, so let's get in," Derek said hurriedly, "I made lunch."

"You did?"

Casey's eyes bulged as Derek ushered them inside.

"Yeah," Derek cleared this throat, then glanced at Nigel and back to her awkwardly, "I…respect you, Casey."

"Okayyy." She looked suspiciously between the two men. "I didn't think it was possible, but you two have actually gotten weirder since I left."

The door shook behind her as she entered and Derek's face fell, frustrated. Nigel whispered, "Remember, patience and persistence." He leaned in and continued with more emphasis, "And, _sidewalks_."

"Yeah, yeah."

--

"You look nice," Derek said quietly over his plate.

"Thank you."

"Is that a new dress?"

Casey nodded, eyes scrunched as she leaned forward on her elbows, watching him. "Mmmhmmm."

"It's nice," Derek said again.

"Thank you," she said again.

He glanced uncomfortably at the British man sitting between them at the table. Casey followed his gaze curiously, but then looked back to him.

"And, I see you still haven't shaved yet."

Derek smirked and she shrugged. "It's kind of growing on me," she said.

"Yeah?"

"No."

She laughed and Derek's own lips titled, smiling at her. Casey looked quickly then back to Nigel, and she smacked his arm teasingly. "You know, this kind of feels like you're chaperoning us or something."

The two males sent her blank looks.

"My mom, when I was in middle school, used to chaperone all my dates: drive us everywhere, never leave us alone, always sit right between us so we wouldn't kiss each other…"

"Heh, yeah, that's crazy, Case," Derek mumbled.

"It was absolutely mortifying." She blushed a little before continuing. "But, um, one time I really liked this guy; so…I snuck outside and kissed him anyway."

"Really?" Derek asked, eyes clouding as he leaned over.

Nigel stomped on his foot and stared at him.

"I mean, that was completely, totally irresponsible."

"My thoughts exactly," Nigel said, "Now anyone up for a movie?"

--

Ecclesiastes 3:1-9


	8. The Definition of Volatile

**Lol, thanks for the feedback, guys. It seems Nigel has a 50 percent approval rating coming into the stretch... ;)  
**

**Hope you enjoy this part. It was hard to write, but alas...**

--

**7: The Definition of Volatile **

--

"Could he have stayed any longer?" Casey said, watching tiredly out the window as Nigel drove away.

"Don't tempt the fates, Case," Derek murmured behind her, "He might come back."

She crossed her fingers, holding them up toward the ceiling and he smirked.

"He's just being helpful, or whatever."

"Or 'whatever'," Casey said, "I mean, I love Nigel more than anyone, but that was just...awkward. And kind of rude actually." She pouted. "He ate all the popcorn."

"Like you didn't help," Derek said pointedly.

She rolled her eyes. But when she turned to him, her face seemed to open up for the first time since she'd arrived, her fingers lacing through his. "How are you for real? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered, letting his thumbs circle her palms, "I'm fine."

"I was worried…"

"I'm not a baby; I don't need to be changed," he grumbled.

"You know that's not what I meant."

She fell forward, her chin dipping into his chest, and his hands traveled her back, "It was good," he said. His voice gentling as he finished, "Nigel helped me a lot."

"_Ohhh_." Casey sighed and hugged him closer to her, "I _love _Nigel."

"Right, yeah, I got that."

He was more than a little peeved to have her so ardently expressing her affections for another man into his chest; but he didn't comment further.

"Hey," he said, pulling back, "There's something I want to show you."

--

"Oh, oww, oww, watch it," Derek hissed as Casey's shoe dug into his foot, "What is with you and heels anyway?"

"They're cute and they make my calves look slim," Casey whined, "Now can I can look?"

"Yeah, wait."

Derek kept one hand covering her eyes and the used the other to flip the switch.

"Now open."

He heard her breath hitch and his gaze flitted nervously from her. "The guy at the store said it was 'rose', not pink; I hope you like that. I know I'm not the best painter, but I tried to practice out back a few times so it would be a little smoother…sort of…kinda…" he trailed off from his babble with a nervous chuckle.

When she still hadn't said anything, he bit into his lip. "Do you like it?"

"No," she blurted, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

His eyes hopped to her, and her face was frozen with pain and revulsion as she fled from the room. "What? Wait!"

"I know it's bad," he rushed out, following her down the steps, "But do you—do you want to see the fireplace instead?"

"The fireplace?" She squeaked, turning to him at the bottom step, her eyes glistening.

"Yeah," he swallowed, "I moved all the junk and cleared it for you. So you could…see it," he said, slowing helplessly as face her crumpled.

"Why would you do this?" she breathed.

"I thought you were really upset when you couldn't see the fireplace, so I-I…"

"So you thought you'd just win me over by sprucing everything up?"

"Yes...?" he said blankly.

When her eyes welled again, tears spilling now, he winched.

"I can't..." She covered her mouth with her hands, "No, I need a second, I can't do this."

"I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry," Derek said.

He reached for her and she shook her head, shrugging it off. "No."

His face heated then. And he felt his chest burn with anger and shame at the hours he'd spend lifting and painting and chopping and planning and obsessing and how he'd still managed to screw it up.

"It's stupid," Derek said, "I shouldn't of... _Damnit," _he growled and rushed from the room.

--

"Derek…Derek," Casey rasped, "We need to talk."

He shook his head, back bent and gaze stuck to the porch as he chipped off paint, "I screwed it up, didn't I? I always screw it up."

"Derek…"

"I can't please you, it's just not possible, I can't."

Her fingers brushed his hair and he hissed, "Don't touch me!"

He jerked and kept chipping.

"Derek, stop it."

She moved towards him again.

"I said _no!_" he cried, "And, I'm not going to freak out and have an episode, okay? So you can just leave and tick off another girl scout point, or whatever."

"I'm sorry, okay? I freaked out; I can explain. Nigel says sometimes-"

"I don't care; I don't _care!_" he said, shouting over her.

But Casey smacked the tool from his hand. "It was a stupid, knee-jerk reaction, okay?" He still wasn't looking at her, but ignoring her as he stood; so she sped up desperately, "My dad-my dad he'd do this after long trips, shower me with gifts and nice things to make me feel better and then leave again—_Derek_!" she cried when he started walking from.

He wasn't listening.

And he didn't spare her a glance as he stormed off.

--

When he finally returned an hour later, some of the steam was off him, but he decided he still needed a beer—or five—as he stomped up the porch.

He pried open the door and Casey was standing behind it, her face wet and dry, with new and old tears as she stared at him.

She punched into his chest.

"I hate how much you can hurt me," she cried, striking him again, "I just hate it! I _hate you!_"

"Stop it," he growled, "Stop it!"

She gasped and reached for him, ripping the chain from his neck, and he winched as she shoved past him.

--

"You're going to make yourself sick," Nigel murmured, face haggard as he pushed a cup of tea across the table to Casey, "Please, take a breath and drink some."

"O-o-okay," she moaned, a shaky hand reaching for the drink.

"Trust me; it will help."

Nigel's eyes shadowed painfully as the brunette crumbled before him. He heard the doorbell ring, and he straightened as a choppy, frantic knocking broke out against the door.

"I'll be right back," he whispered.

Nigel rubbed his eyes, sighing, before he slowly unlocked the door.

"I can't find Casey!" Derek near-screamed.

His face was crazy with panic, his hair sticking everywhere, and his clothes wet and rumpled. "I looked everywhere for her, even the lake. And-and we were fighting she said-she said all I do is hurt her and that she _hated me_…" His face twisted "And, I don't…I don't know if she…or she…"

He let out a strangled groan.

There was a creaking at the office doorway and Derek's eyes darted to see Casey standing there, her eyes wide.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Derek boomed, his anger boiling and spilling over his panic, "You can't just leave in the middle of the night and not tell me where the hell you are!"

She bristled. "What? But you can?"

"That's different. I'm a man; I know my way around and I can defend myself. Anything could have happened to you."

"Like you'd even care."

Derek felt his brain heat and explode in his skull. "Do I _look_ like I don't care right now?! I cannot give you my undivided attention for every millisecond of each and every one of your stupid tantrums; so would you just grow the hell up?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Casey said, hand up as her eyes teared again, "I didn't know my issues with my dad were some inconvenient tantrum to you."

She could barely get the last word out before she choked on a sob and ran past Nigel, who was standing there, speechless.

"Issues with her dad?" Derek turned to Nigel, breathless, tired, and confused, "What the hell is she talking about?"

--

The door cracked open and Derek hesitated, before standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to go?"

When she didn't answer, he opened the door further, and he could see the light falling on her as she stood turned away from him, shoulders shuddering.

"I'm not gonna go unless you tell me to...okay?"

His gaze was full with guilt and brooding as the door shut. "Damnit, Casey..." His teeth gritted. "I never would have left home if I knew how you felt. You have to believe that."

"...Because if you don't then…then that just makes me a horrible man, right? Someone who doesn't care about you? Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice getting louder, "Is that why said you hated me?"

"No!"

She finally spun to him, words and emotions bursting from her, "I don't hate you; I _can't._ I want to so badly, but I can't. And, I miss you—all the time—even when you're here. It's like I'm still trying to catch up, but I can't…and then you'll be gone; and it will just get worst. And, I want to hate you, Derek, I really, really do!"

He didn't understand her, but he had her in his arms before she even finished anyway, his hold tight, unyielding as her hands slammed against his chest. "No. You don't get to hold me right now."

The door opened again, and it was Nigel's turn to stand there awkwardly. "I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

Derek sighed as Casey slipped from him, turning and hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes.

"Nigel. I get that you're trying to help, but could you please just give us _five_ minutes alone?" Derek gritted out.

The therapist nodded warily, but obediently closed the door.

--

When the door opened again—thirty minutes later, not five—Derek was cradling Casey in his arms, her face hidden and sniffling in his neck.

"Where's your spare room?" Derek rasped.

"Uh…upstairs, second door to your right…" Nigel answered slowly.

Derek nodded, shifted her in his arms, and then carried her up the steps.

--

"She's staying here," Derek said quietly when he came back downstairs. His eyes were red, and never quite met the older man's gaze, "We both decided…if it's alright?"

"Of course," Nigel answered, face tired and blank.

"I'll bring some of her stuff in the morning. And, no, Nigel, I don't want to talk about it."

He headed for the door and Nigel watched contemplatively, his eyes focusing on the broken necklace tied clumsily to Derek's neck.

--

"Nigel? Casey?" Derek called, hefting a pink luggage bag as he slipped into the therapist's living room.

He heard shuffling and hurried footsteps and then two tired forms appear form the office. Nigel lingered just outside of his office, but Casey jogged up to Derek.

Nigel was surprised to see them hug tightly, intensely, the bag slipping from Derek's grip.

"Hey," Derek said.

"Hey," she whispered back, before pressing a kiss to his beard and then stroking it—which he decided he really, _really _liked. Something in his gaze must have told her that, because she continued to do so as she spoke softly to him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Unh huh," he murmured.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." He nodded, even as his eyelashes fluttered, trying to stay open. "Will you cook for me?" he asked, his voice rough and whinny.

"Yes." She leaned up against him and their mouths were close, "You want pancakes? And bacon?"

"_Yes._"

Nigel cleared his throat loudly—the scene having finally built beyond a bearable level of discomfort—and they pulled apart.

"Morning, Nigel," Derek said stiffly.

"Good morning," he returned dryly.

"I'm making us breakfast," Casey said.

She grasped Derek's right hand in both of hers, and then took him, like she was stealing him, to the kitchen.

--

"You two seem to have made up, to put it lightly," Nigel commented, lips quirked in bemusement as he leaned back in his desk chair.

Derek's cheeks pinked almost imperceptibly. "Um, sure, I guess you could say that."

"I most certainly could. And I am." Nigel watched him and released a long, deep breath, "So what did you discuss last night?"

"It's personal," Derek answered.

"Yes, I can see that. But, it would be helpful for my purposes and—I'll go ahead and put it out there—general curiosity to know what occured."

"I told her how I felt about her…_sidewalk_ felt about her," he added when Nigel's brows rose.

"And, what was that?"

"That…" His head lowered slightly, "That I care about her and that I want to protect her…And that I won't leave her again."

"And, how did she respond?"

"Mostly by crying. A lot," Derek swallowed and Nigel could sense the residual discomfort, "Then she said—she said that I was a good man…and that I make her feel good. And…" his eyes flickered sheepishly to the window, "…that I did a good job painting. I think she meant it this time, too."

Nigel didn't. But, Derek's eyes were shinning, so he didn't comment.

"Yet, in the end you decided to separate?"

"For a while, yeah. We um…we don't want to hurt each other," he said tensely. He sighed and looked imploringly at the shrink, "And, space is good…right?"

Nigel nodded, a small, wistful smile touching his lips. "Right."


	9. Jumpstart

**Wow, never thought I'd do two updates in one day, but this part was almost done already, so bygones…Also, I will be traveling again soon, so I wanted to post as much as I could while I'm at home.**

**Thanks so much for feedback! (again)**

**This chapter is also transitional—and therefore a little shorter—but hopefully the double update will make up for that…**

**--**

**8: Jumpstart **

--

"Could you pass the coffee, Casey?" Nigel mumbled over his newspaper.

"Sure," she sighed and scooted the coffee pot to him, "And by the way, I think I'm falling for Derek."

"In that case could you make it vodka?"

"_Nigel_," Casey hissed. Her entire face was red, embarrassed and frustrated at his apparent flippancy.

"I believe the correct colloquial response for this is 'duh'," Nigel said, exhaling, "But, I'd prefer to just say 'shit'."

"Took the words right out my mouth," Casey muttered. "And, look, you don't even have to begin to tell me how twisted this is because, believe me, I've agonized over it many a night."

"I know we're step-siblings and I know that we're both incredibly messed up right now and I know that we have nothing, absolutely nothing in common besides that fact that we're step-siblings and we're _messed up_ right now…but….he just…he makes everything click in the most painfully horrible terrifyingly amazing way," Casey cried, "And he's _hot_."

She blew out, the breath making her bangs bounce, and Nigel vigorously shook his head.

"No," he said, "I'll say it again, 'no'. And, once more, '_NO'._"

"I feel like I'm naked every time I'm around him anyway, like it's written in bold, neon letters all over my forehead…"

"Trust me, it's not; he's absurdly dense."

"…And part of me just wants to lay him and get all the angsting and tension over with," she tilted her head and admitted, "Okay, so maybe a huge part."

"No, no, no," Nigel said again, "Angsting and tension are _good_ when they prevent bad and complicated situations from occurring. "

"Fine," she huffed, "But, I don't know what to do Nigel, the tension is driving me absolutely…"

--

"…_crazy!_" Derek cried, his skin hot and flushed as he paced Nigel's office. "She's freaking _hot _and kind and amazing and she cares about me for no apparent reason," Derek spat out as if they were all horrible four letter words, "I don't know how to handle this."

"Derek, I assure you, this kind of tension is normal in inter-sex relationships. Surely you must have experienced it before."

"Well, sure; but I've always just slept with them."

Nigel rolled his eyes, but when he saw that Derek's face was completely straight, he frowned, "Oh."

"I'm gonna go crazy, I am literally going to go insane. If she gives me even one hint, I swear Nigel, I'll go for it."

"Fine," Nigel answered plainly, "As long as you realize that would be a complete 'cop away' as they say."

"Cop out," Derek corrected, "And what do…"

--

"...you mean?" Casey asked.

"Yes, physical attraction is a natural reaction, especially as emotional attachment deepens. However, one must be wary of seeking physical intimacy in lieu of emotional intimacy."

"So you're saying that I don't want to physically jump Derek," Casey guessed slowly, "But, that I really want to…emotionally boom-sha-a-laka with him?"

"In some words, yes."

"I don't think I completely…"

--

"…understand that, Nigel." Derek admitted.

"In many cultures and belief systems the act of physically uniting is symbolic of the greater of act of metaphysically becoming one, of true intimacy and relationship. It seems clear to me through your often irrational and intense outbursts, that this is the core desire: to be one and not to be separated."

"Wow," Derek said, facing smoothing, "That's really weird…."

--

"…deep," Casey whispered.

"Now, I um," Nigel cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Clearly don't discourage the tangible consummation, if you will." Casey's lips quirked as Nigel blushed slightly, "But, you must walk before you run…or jump, or what have you."

-

"You look like a bummy nun."

"And, people say you don't know how to sweet talk."

Casey glared at him as Derek shrugged, closing Nigel's door behind him. His eyes traveled her baggy apparel: a grey, long sleeved shirt, sweatpants, and cross trainers. He squinted. "I'm just saying… where's the jewelry, the verging on a near-death experience heels, the sparkly tank top?"

"I'm _comfortable_," Casey growled, "And, I think it's important to be modest."

"Well, mission accomplished," Derek said with a smirk, "Yikes."

He turned from her, his face bursting with relief that he wouldn't have to bribe his eyes away from pointy heels and tanned thighs and sparkly cleavage. But, when he turned back and her eyes flashed with hurt, he grimaced.

"Casey-"

"Well, I hate to break it to you _Fabio_, but you're not exactly in the running for a J Crew catalogue yourself." His head jerked back as she continued, "Your hair looks like a trash bin, your beard is furry and creepy, and frankly, your clothes make you look _scrawny_, not lean."

Derek's cheeks heated. Her cracks on his appearance had been smarting more than usual lately and before he could stop it, he found himself actually defending it.

"I'm not scrawny…"

"Pfft."

"And, I've never had any complaints before."

Her eyes narrowed and he knew he'd found a button. "That's because you've never had any _taste_ before."

"Heh, okay, Case, you sure you really want to go there? 'cause last time I checked, you weren't exactly the poster girl for functional relationships: My best friend, Max the Oompa-Loompa, Noel the drama queen, and Ryan? Ha!"

"Why would you even bring him up when you know it just pisses both of us off?"

"Good question; but I've got a better one: why would you even date him?"

She gasped. "You sit down and write me that five billion page memo justifying all the skeezbags you've been with, and _then_ we can have this discussion," she turned, hair flipping dramatically, "And, I'm changing."

Derek groaned as she marched up the steps.

--

"Casey," Nigel said slowly, eyebrows scrunching as he approached her and Derek in his office, "You are aware we're not going out, correct?"

She was dressed impeccably, her hair done, her blouse and skirt tight, and her heels the length of Long Island. Derek just glowered off into a corner, his posture tense in the chair.

"Yes, I didn't want to be called a nun anymore, so I changed."

"Ha, well, I'd hardly call you a nun." Nigel chuckled slightly, but when he caught her arched brow, he faltered, "No, no, not that you're…that came out wrong."

She scowled, but let it go.

"Right, 'cause when _Nigel_ criticizes your appearance it's all cute and British."

"Yes," she said snottily, "It is."

Derek turned to her, and his gaze instinctively dipped below her neck, but he forced it back up to return her glare. He flushed and turned away again, frustrated.

"What?" Casey snapped, "Am I dressed so atrociously that you won't even look at me now?"

"Well, maybe you could try putting _some_ clothes on like _one _day of the week," he barked at her.

It was her turn to flush. "You're the one who said I looked like a nun."

"Yeah, you did; and I _want _you to look like a nun. An incredibly celibate, multilayered, can barely see your eyes because you're wearing so much clothing nun."

Casey was flustered and annoyed and utterly confused about how to respond to that.

"You're an attractive woman," Derek finally said, swallowing uncomfortably, "So it's a hard—_difficult_," he amended instantly, "When you dress like…"

He gestured with his hands vaguely, looking away.

"Oh, oh, okay," Her cheeks burst with red and she jumped from her seat, "I'll just--I'll be not here."

"Casey," Derek sighed. Yet he didn't follow her.

--

"You know, this whole angsty hide and go seek thing's getting a little old," Derek muttered against the bathroom door, where Casey had locked herself in. "And, I didn't mean to… 'insult your womanhood'," Derek said, butchering the spiel Nigel had given him.

"_Please leave."_

"No. Look, I'm sorry. I just…wanted to respect you and your body…or whatever," Derek said, grimacing, "God, I sound a public service announcement."

"No." The door opened slowly and Derek was surprised to see Casey's head peak out, "You actually sound really sweet. _Oh_," her hands shielded her face, groaning, "I feel so _embarrassed_. You guys must think I'm like a hoochie-mama or something."

"Ha! Um no," Derek gingerly pulled her hands from her face.

"I don't think you're a 'hoochie', okay? I mean, geez, if you were anything close we'd probably would be in bed right now."

His mind caught up and his eyes bulged, her shocked gaze mirroring his as he stepped back. "Heh, no, no, that's not what I meant the words in my mouth to say. I just mean, I respect you so I wouldn't...and-and you're my step-sister, pretty much just my sister, like Marti or-or Edwin even," Derek fumbled.

"Like Marti or Edwin?" she whispered, gaze unreadable.

His head shook helplessly, his eyes flickering darkly. "No, not like Marti or Edwin."

Her eyes latched on to the hole in the collar of his stupid, raggedy shirt.

"This is wrong," Casey finally said, voice quivering as her eyes finally returned to his stormy gaze, "It's not okay. It's sick and wrong."

"You don't think I know that?" Derek hissed, "You think I haven't agonized about that almost every night since you've been here?"

"Stop talking, just stop talking, and it will stop."

But he grabbed her, pushing her up against the wall, though he looked as helpless as she felt as he pinned her there. "I want you, so bad," he said, and the nerves exploded in her stomach.

"You don't want me; you want emotional intimacy," she said almost into his mouth.

"_Whatever_," he rasped, "I just need it and I need it now."

Her hands pressed to his chest and his to the wall and they were panting when she finally pushed him away.

He grasped her again, turning her towards him, but then he let her easily smack his hand away.

"Do you know how much it kills me that you let Ryan have that for _four years_? Letting him touch you, and laughing at his jokes and being with him and fucking loving him? You're _mine_," he growled.

His hand touched her shoulder and again she pushed him off.

"Then why don't you just come and get me since I'm yours for the taking?!" she snapped.

She turned, agitated that she couldn't force as much sarcasm as she'd wanted; and when he came behind her, arms wrapping tightly around her waist, she didn't stop him. He whispered roughly into her ear, letting his lips brush her skin, "Nigel says there's a way we can have each other completely," she shivered as her eyes shut, his beard scratching against her, "Let's do that."

--


	10. Prelude to a Boomshakalaka

**YAY :) I'm so glad to see people getting into the story. I'll try to keep parts coming as time allows. Thanks so much again for all your comments.**

**Also, due to STRONG demand, I've left a little treat for some of the reviewers in here. (You'll know it when you see it)**

**--**

**9: Prelude to a Boom-shak-a-laka**

**--**

"Tell me how much you want me," Derek rasped as her head fell back against him. He breathed in as her hair brushed his face, his hands gripping her blouse and bringing her closer, "Say it for me."

Her body was burning everywhere he touched her, but she bristled, and Derek hissed as her elbow stabbed his chest. "You are so damn _arrogant_."

"I'm not telling you, I'm asking you; please."

She didn't answer and he turned her again, his gaze a mix of panic and a desperately forced coolness, "Do you want to do this with me or not —you can say no," he lied, his gut twisting, "It's okay."

"You know I do," she whispered almost angrily.

"Right," he said, trying to pretend this was clearly obvious to him, and not stupefyingly good to hear, "Then say it."

"I want you," she hissed.

"Thank you," he sighed and his head ducked for a moment, his eyes squeezing shut. And, when they opened again she was surprised to see them shake with vulnerability. "Thank you," he said again.

Her face softened and she let him pull her back to him, let him take her hand and press his lips to it. "We have to do this," he said, "We can do this."

"Can we?" she asked, voice catching.

"_Yes._"

**--**

"You tell him; you're his favorite."

"No, you should tell him; you knew him before me."

"No, you—Nigel," Derek squeaked, grinning awkwardly as the office door opened. He sent him a sheepish look as he continued to hold Casey from behind, "Hey, great news!"

Nigel sighed deeply. "I leave you alone for five minutes…"

--

"...so will you help us?" Casey asked.

Nigel blinked, still numb from trying to process it all. "With what, exactly?"

"We want to…" Derek shifted uncomfortably, "You know, one-ify or whatever."

"_What_?"

Casey huffed and clapped her hands together three times. "Boom-shak-a-laka!"

Derek squinted, baffled, and was surprised to see Nigel's eyes widen in comprehension.

"Oh…_oh…_oh?" The therapist answered, confused.

"I'm lost," Derek said.

"Shut up," Casey said over him and turned back to Nigel, "Can you help us? Please? We want to be together."

"And, we know there have to be boundaries," Derek said, hurrying on, "But, can't we like, I dunno, compromise…do an intersection instead of a sidewalk, or whatever the analogy would be?"

"Metaphor," Casey said, wringing her hands.

"Right, whatever."

"And, probably not an intersection," Nigel finally answered tiredly, "That's seems to have sexual connotation."

"Right, okay, no intersecting."

"I won't pretend I shouldn't have seen this coming," Nigel said wryly.

"So you'll help us? Do your wacky, unorthodox but effective therapist thing?" Casey asked.

"Right, well," Nigel sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck, "We can try to work this in further, help you…'boombaka', or what have you. But, until we do, I truly encourage boundaries and restraint. And, that would of course include keeping intimate physical contact to a minimum."

"Right," Casey said.

Derek nodded. "Obviously."

--

"I'm just gonna give you a '_mini_' kiss goodnight, okay?" Derek murmured, his lips lingering by hers as they stood at the front door.

She nodded and he pulled her closer, leaning down as she leaned up…and then his gaze shifted across the room.

"What's wrong?" Casey whispered as his mouth hovered just over hers. "Are you nervous?"

"No, but…I lied. And, I was planning on Frenching you pretty indecently; but Nigel's watching us and I feel like I'm about to French his daughter right in front of him and he has a shot gun hidden somewhere—literally, about the gun, by the way."

"Well, good," Casey said, making his eyes flicker back down to her, "I don't want our first kiss to be an 'indecent' frenchie anyway."

"Why not? We're Canadian."

"Because it should be sweet, like a Lollypop."

That sounded beyond silly.

But, her lip gloss _did_ smell like candy—the good-tasting-only-thing-on-your-mind-all-day-is-getting-some-because-you're-a-five-your-old candy—so he decided he'd get some.

He brushed her lips and the tiny, sweet, agonizing sparks started up his spine as their mouths whispered against each other, soft, testing, teasing until she finally grasped his neck and tried to deepen—but he suddenly pulled back, eyes fluttering open.

"He's still watching," he said against her lips, "And yeah, yeah, he's glaring now."

"Okay, fine," Casey breathed, getting a little agitated, "But, I didn't want it to be _that_ chaste."

"I'll make up for it later, I mean he's _really_ glaring, Case."

"I thought you were supposed to be able to perform under pressure."

He grimaced as she pulled back, determined to keep his cheeks from pinking.

"Hey," he said with manufactured, yet well-practiced bravado, "There's enough of me to go around 'til later, 'kay, babe?"

"Don't call me 'babe', I hate that; you called all those other girls '_babe'_," Casey snapped and they were officially no longer whispering sweet nothings or being romantic at all.

"Fine," he snapped back, "Would you prefer 'honey bunches of _difficult_', then?"

"That's not funny."

He sighed as she moved away from him, and he wanted to grab her, but—once again—his eyes fell on the legally registered rifle owner; so he resisted.

For a moment.

And, then he braced himself and hurried past Nigel, following her down the hall and into the office.

"Okay, so I was a little nervous, alright?"

"Please. Yeah, right, 'Romeo'."

"I'm serious, it's a lot of pressure to kiss someone you actually care about and that you've wanted for so long. I mean, I used to torture myself fantasizing about what it would feel like; and in some of those, you'd pretty much just diss me or slap me or laugh or all of the above. And, Nigel standing there like an ex-marine father fresh off parole didn't exactly help, okay?"

"Well, you calling me 'babe', and drudging up your sleazily magnificent past wasn't very helpful either. I can't even…" she shook her head, sighing, "I'm so out of the mood right now, it's not even funny."

"Yeah, it's really not," he rolled his eyes, "I'll just 'call you' then, or whatever."

"Why would you say that?" Casey said, glowering at him, "Why do you keep saying these stupid, insulting things? Do you think you're _witty_ or something?"

"See, this has got to be one of those trick questions; because yes, in general, I do find myself witty—and I thought you did, too," he answered, squinting, "But, you don't look amused, so…?" He shrugged and trailed off.

"Is this really the best you've got, 'Rico Suave'? Because I'm not impressed."

"Stop calling me those ridiculous names. I'm not some sort of mythical sex god…"

She snorted.

"…And, yeah, sometimes I screw up, especially when I'm nervous, I already said that," he finished, his voice climbing now, "And, you keep getting angrier and more turned off from me; what the hell do you want me to say? Do you want me to not say something? Do you want me to leave? Do you want me stand on my head and juggle flaming bowling pins?"

Her face softened, and then she stepped back, her eyes clouded with guilt.

He didn't say anything, but sensing her shift, he walked to her and did the last thing she'd expected: lowered to his knees. His hands settled on her waist and he pressed his head to her stomach. "I just want to make you feel good."

Her stomach warmed where he touched her, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently so they could look at each other. "Mission accomplished, Romeo."

--

"You are aware I think of Casey almost as a daughter...and that I own a gun, correct?"

Derek swallowed and nodded slowly as Nigel confronted him at his desk. "Oh, yeah, I sorta remembered that…a little…a lot..."

"Derek," Nigel sighed, "You have to learn to contain yourself, even when I'm not around to watch you."

"And, when are you not gonna be around, watching, again? Just out of curiosity."

Nigel scowled at him and Derek slid down in his chair.

"Do you want my assistance or not?"

"Yes," Derek said quietly.

"And, do you want your relationship with Casey to be as healthy and successful as possible?"

"Yes, Nigel," Derek mumbled.

"Then please: Listen to me. And, absolutely _no_ French kissing; I don't care if we are in Canada."

--

"What do you think about my beard?"

"Honestly? It's kind of growing on me," Casey said softly, this time more sincere.

"Yeah?"

"Still no; for god's sake, _please_ shave it."

Derek frowned slightly and rubbed his beard as Nigel rejoined them in his kitchen.

"I really want to win the contest though."

"Yeah, and I really want a real from kiss you, but—and you can quote me on this—those things are _not_ gonna happen simultaneously."

"I think it makes you look charming," Nigel said cheekily.

But, Derek ignored him and spoke directly to Casey, "Consider it gone."

A pleased smile curved her lips and Derek watched them lazily, before his eyes moved to Nigel's form.

"Oh, gee, and have I mentioned how much I miss you when you're not here to chaperone us?" Derek said, batting his eyelashes.

"Hey, that's my move," Casey hissed.

"It looks better on me."

"Pfft. As if. _Nothing_ looks better on you."

"Except you. Ha!" Derek guffawed, but soon stopped when he noticed Casey's and Nigel's stone cold expressions. "Um, mmm," he cleared his throat, "That was um…Did you make this pudding, Case, it's great."

--

"Hey…?" Casey was surprised, yet not unpleased when Derek arrived at the door early the next morning, a small bag in his hands, "You're up really early."

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd want to miss this."

"Miss wha—ahhh!"

She shrieked and literally bounced in front him as he held out the shaving kit.

"Are you serious?" she squeaked, "Are you teasing me? Because if you're teasing I'm gonna kick your ass-"

"No, no, I'm not teasing you. I want to do this for you. Plus…" He smiled crookedly, "It's really awkward never knowing if there's food in your beard or not."

--

"That's it," Derek murmured, staring at himself in the mirror, "You can come in."

The door opened and Casey's breath hitched as he turned to her.

"I probably look like a twelve year old," he said uncomfortably when she didn't respond.

"No," Casey answered softly.

"No?"

He shifted anxiously as she came toward him, her eyes clouding as she took in his smooth, bare face. She studied it, stared at it, memorized, and decided she'd missed every single dimple and crinkle of his cheeks.

"You look so..." She breathed out, head shaking, "_Handsome."_

She could see his eyes warm as they fell on her.

"It's been a long time since anyone's said that to me," he whispered, lips quirking wryly.

"Well what? Has everyone been legally blind or something?"

He blinked, wordless as she slipped her arms around his torso and whispered to him, "You used to think you were the shit back in high school, that you were just so hot. And you were," she admitted, "But, being in the army's only made you hotter, so why can't you see that?"

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"You're so hot," she said, reaching up and stroking his cheek, his chin, his jaw, "And, you have to know I notice that."

He nodded dumbly. "Right."

His face scrunched slightly and he tilted his head so she could touch him more.

"What am I, a piece of meat?"

When he smirked, that cocky tilt that used to so infuriate her, she felt her stomach flutter, just like it used to.

"Ass," she whispered.

"Are you offering?"

Her eyes narrowed and then she smacked _his_ ass, before winking, and leaving the room.

--

When he entered the spare room about a half hour later, he almost swaggered. And Casey couldn't keep the gentle smile from her lips, satisfied. She never thought she'd enjoy pumping Derek Venturi's ego so much, that she _could_ pump Derek Venturi's ego.

His smirk dropped a little when he asked her, "Casey?"

"Yeah, Der?"

"First; don't call me that. And, second…does this go together?" He looked sheepish as he gestured to his outfit. "I can't remember."

Casey glanced over his dark brown pants, his blue shirt, and then up to his eager face.

"Yes," she lied instantly.

"Oh." He smiled. "Good."

He turned and she could only take it for another two seconds before her face twisted and she called after him. "No, no, actually, it _really_ doesn't."

"Oh," he said again, face falling.

"No, but you still look good," she sprinted, "You just…you need…take off your pants."

His eyebrows spiked, and she rolled her eyes. "You _know_ that's not what I meant. Just change them when you get back."

"Why?" he asked seriously.

"Because they don't go. You should try khaki's or even just jeans."

"Oh...okay," he said slowly, "But, I don't look stupid?"

"No. And, it doesn't have holes in it, so that's a good start."

He nodded, eyes registering relief, but still a little bewildered as he turned from her. "Right. I'll let you change if you need to."

"Actually, wait," she said, moving to her bed, where several tops were spread out, "Since you're here and I usually spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out what you want anyway…can you tell me what you like?"

Derek's eyes widened, unsure whether to be more shocked that she actually cared about his preferences, or that she was trusting his fashion judgment.

"I um…"

"I was thinking this one because it brings out my eyes," Casey said, lifting a blue tank to her chest, "Or maybe this one because it shows cleavage—which I know you like, but would probably make Nigel feel uncomfortable…or maybe even…"

She reached for another one, but Derek shook his head as he walked over to her, and then knocked the clothes from her grasp.

"Hey."

"You look sexy in everything," he whispered to her, his hand grazing her shoulder. He let it run down her back and wet his lips. "And, when you wore that outfit the other day..."

"Yeah?"

"I…"

"You what?" she asked.

"I…"

She reached up and yanked the necklace. "_Say_ _it for me_," she ordered with a smirk.

"I…thought you looked very lovely and ladylike."

She squinted at him and then turned to see Nigel entering the room.

"Hopefully not interrupting anything," he greeted dryly.

They both sighed and Casey released Derek from her.

"Don't worry Nigel," she answered, annoyed, "We weren't having wild, kinky sex in your guestroom."

She rolled her eyes and the two men exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Yeah, gross," Derek said. He cleared his throat, "You, um, wanted something Nigel?"

"I was just letting you know that everything's prepared," he explained, "So if you're ready…we can begin."

--


	11. Full Disclosure, or the Fine Print

**I'm (unbiasedly I think) convinced that I have the best reviewers ever. I appreciate your comments, from the rants and 'long ones' (which of course all writers enjoy) to the witty oneliners, etc. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.**

**--**

**10: Full Disclosure, or The Fine Print**

--

"Derek."

"Yeah?"

He turned to her and she slid around him, arms squeezing him tight. She bunched the back of his shirt, and pulled slightly. "I'm gonna ride you."

His stomach clinched. "Casey; Nigel's _right_ in front of us."

"So; he can watch."

When his eyes bulged she squinted, before sighing and rolling her eyes. "No, 'Sexilla'. I meant on your back. You know, like you used to do with Marti…"

The flush left his cheeks and he felt a familiar tug in chest at the mention of his sister. He tried to push it down and push up a smile as he answered.

"Sure. I guess I can spare a ride for my _second_ favorite lady."

"I can settle for that."

He bent, hands waiting carefully by his side and said, "Get on."

"Okay," she chirped, smiling ridiculously as she jumped up.

She wobbled a little, but he grasped her with strong arms, and she wrapped her legs around him securely.

"You're my third favorite man," she breathed.

"Heh, yeah."

He paused, and it was silly, but he couldn't stop himself from neurotically wondering if she was joking or not; and if not, who these bastard men were.

"Right after Santa Claus and that weird bunny-man on the Trix box."

"Right. Of course," he shifted her on top of him and started walking them down the hill.

When her arms tightened around him, it felt like cuddling more than anything else, Casey nuzzling him and then nestling his head under hers. His chest felt warm where her hands rubbed, and the feeling spread slowly, pleasantly as she held on to him.

"You make me so damn happy," she whispered in his ear.

He felt his stomach twist in a different, softer way as he murmured, "Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah, baby," she answered, kissing his temple.

He didn't want to let her down, but he had to. So he gave her legs a gentle squeeze, before letting her climb off.

--

"Trust is fundamental in every relationship," Nigel said firmly, "And, honesty is always the best policy."

"Right." Derek said, arms folded over his chest as he stood awkwardly in his trunks, Casey squinting in a one piece beside him. "So why are we in bathing suits again?"

"You're going to learn to trust first."

"But, we already trust each other," Casey said.

"Then this should be incredibly easy for you."

--

"Why can't I--why can't I see anything?" Derek rasped, "I'm scared."

"It's okay, baby," she said, "Just keep moving."

"No."

"Derek," she chided.

"You know, water is symbolic of many wonderful, curious things," Nigel called out pleasantly from his picnic chair where he was watching the two. Derek was blindfolded in knee deep water, while Casey stood behind him, slowly ushering deeper. "In some rituals, water is used as a symbol of the culmination of the pre-mating period, the confirmation of betrothal."

"What the hell is he talking about?" Derek grumbled.

"I'll explain it to you later; just relax and keep going."

"No," he said again, forcing himself to become dead weight so she couldn't push him.

"You're thinking too much," she said patiently, "When you came after me in the water, you didn't think, and that's why you could do it."

"No, I thought. I thought a lot and a lot and a lot and I was _really_ afraid, Casey."

"No, you were brave; there's a difference. So, hulk it up again and just do it."

"What?"

"Never mind." She sighed, hands rubbing his sides soothingly, "What are you thinking?"

"That I hate Nigel."

"Besides that," she said, rolling her eyes.

Derek swallowed and she could feel him tense under her hands. "That it's cold…and deep…and I can't…I can't control anything because they're holding me down…"

"Who—no, don't answer that," Casey breathed, eyes shadowing with pain, "There's no one here besides you and me, okay? It's just you and me. Like back in the day."

Her hands met in the front of him as she gingerly guided him forward, "Remember? At Emily's pool. Our parents would be fighting or gone or whatever, and you would make me sneak out, no matter how guilty or stressed I felt…"

"You wore those--those little bikinis," Derek murmured and the water hit his waist.

"Right. Sometimes I wore them just for you…and we'd go there at night, because you felt badass or whatever; and I liked climbing out the window…"

"Right," he said, almost smiling—almost, "Like a ninja."

"Right," she repeated, "And, we'd swim and laugh and fight, mostly fight…"

"You'd do swan moves, and I'd do cannon balls, just to make you scream."

"And, it was quiet and—even though sometimes we had to rush out not to get caught...it was peaceful."

"And, it felt really, really…"

"Good," she finished for him, "You did it," she said, her chin just over the water. She sighed and hugged from behind, "You did it."

--

"That wasn't too bad," Derek said, pulling the scarf from his face as he and Casey found the shore.

"You did great," Casey said for him.

"Thanks," he answered as she rubbbed his shoulder.

"See, water: a wonderful creature," Nigel beamed.

Derek and Casey shared an amused look while the therapist sighed happily. "Now," he said turning to them, "It's time for the hard part."

--

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Derek said, smiling as Casey helped towel him off, "You're actually gonna leave us alone?"

"To share secrets with each other, not to share _gropes_ with each other," Nigel said seriously and Casey's cheeks tinged, ceasing her ministrations, "Some things should be discussed in private. But, when you're done with your questions, we'll reconvene."

"Oh, goody," Derek quipped, "I can't wait."

--

"I hope we can remember everything he sai-"

"I took notes," Casey said, flipping out her notepad.

"Right," Derek said, lips quirked affectionately, "Of course."

They were settled under the shade of a pair of trees, sprawled out beside each other. The scene would have been admittedly more romantic sans note pads and shrink homework.

"We have to share times we felt hurt by or vulnerable towards each other; moments that we wouldn't already know about."

"Right," Derek said dryly, "I was looking forward to this one. Just as much as I'm looking forward to that blunt blow to the head."

"Derek," she sighed.

He shut his mouth, but didn't apologize.

"I'll go first," she decided.

She exhaled, eyes dancing between the trees and him before she finally said, "Prom Night."

"But that's when you and Ryan first went out," he said, confused, "You were happy and he was crazy about you."

"I know, but…" She sighed. "This is really stupid, but you…you said this really mean thing about my dress…"

Derek didn't speak, just looked down.

"That I looked like a, what was it…? Like a…" Her eyes shut for a moment, replaying the scene in her mind, "…a 'dorky, skanky Lindsay Lohan reject."

"You remember that?"

"Well, it sort of ridiculously hurt my feelings, so yeah."

"But, you…" He trailed off and laughed a little. "You looked beautiful, Case."

She looked away. "That's not funny."

"No, I'm serious. I still remember, it was…this blue, sparkly, thing I dunno what you call all the fabric and everything…. And I saw you and I started sweating in weird places and it was like my brain fried. And you were with Ryan, and I just…I said the first stupid thing I could think of. Wait, just..."

He shifted towards her and reached into his wallet, flipping back to faded pictures he'd kept with him. Hidden in the back behind a few of him and Marti, was one of Casey at prom.

"I sort of…" he looked sheepish, "Tore off the Ryan part."

When she didn't say anything, but just stared at it, he continued.

"You looked beautiful," he said again softly, "So beautiful. Like a spazzy, beautiful angel or something, or that…that was stupid, wasn't it? I'm sorry….I used to be better at this."

"No," she said, laughing softly, "You really weren't."

Her lips brushed his cheek. "Thank you."

--

"When you got into Stanford," Derek admitted quietly.

"What? You threw me a surprise party."

"I know. And I was totally stoked for you. I just knew you'd be perfect there. But…" His lips pursed, "I felt like a failure, like I was losing you. And I knew then that I didn't deserve you anyway."

Her hand raised and he was expecting a soft stroke or a rub, but she smacked him--hard.

"Don't ever say that again," she hissed at him, almost scolding, "You are not a failure, okay? You're amazing. And anyone would be beyond fantastically, ecstatically, mind-blowingly, let-me-break-out-my-happy-dance-now, lucky to have you; including me. See?"

She got up and started doing the electric snake, transitioned into the robot, and then ended with an unidentifiable thriller move. "Whoop, there it is!"

"That was..." Derek's head shook blankly, "..._sweet!_"

"Thank you," Casey said, smiling a little as she popped her collar, "I can do the worm for you, too."

"Yeah?"

--

"One question the other person _has_ to answer," Casey read tiredly, still a little sore from her spontaneous break dancing.

"Heh. This should be fun."

"Do you have one?" she asked softly, tilting her head to look at him, "You can ask anything; I'll be honest."

"I know. That's why I'm afraid to ask."

Her eyes deepened contemplatively as she watched him.

But, he didn't look at her, whispering, "Do you think I'm like your father?"

"No," she answered instantly, unblinking.

"Don't answer so quickly," he hurried over the relief swelling in his chest, "You don't-"

"No; I've thought about this a lot. And, I've talked it through with Nigel. And, yeah…I think the separation hurt in the same place, if that even makes sense," she mumbled softly, "But other than that…" She shook her head firmly and looked up to him, "No."

"For real?"

She nodded, rubbing his knee and his eyes warmed, the darkness pulling back.

"It's your turn then," he finally said.

"I want to see your scar," she blurted.

She shifted expectantly in front of him so she could completely face him, and he straightened.

"That's not a question."

"I know. It's just something I really want you to do for me, Derek."

Her head tilted, eyes pleading softly—a move that was about five trillion times worst than any pout—and he sighed.

"Fine."

His jaw twitched slightly as she reached for the hem of his tee, but he let her slowly peel it from his chest.

"Whoop; there it is," he said dryly.

She ignored him.

"Did you cry?" she whispered.

He looked at her, bemused, and shook his head. "No," he said honestly, "I don't cry. Sometimes I want to…but I don't; I can't."

"And did you," Her face contorted, body tensing, "Almost die?"

"No," he promised her, "It just…hurt like hell."

"That's enough," he said suddenly, grabbing for his shirt.

But her words stopped him.

"I used to pray for you. Which is stupid, because I'm totally not the praying type. I sort of like a little more control, you know? But, I just, I'd pray that you'd be okay and that no one would ever really hurt you. And, when I look at that, I feel…"

"Disgusted?" he guessed.

"…hopeful."

He didn't understand it, yet he tried to soke in the light in her eyes as she stroked his cheek.

--

When they returned to Nigel, exhausted, yet not defeated, the therapist was completing a Sudoku in his chair. "How immensely satisfying," he murmured.

"Please tell me we're done here," Derek grumbled, "And, we can go home and get some Yoohoo."

"Well, at this point," Nigel said, "When you leave depends entirely on you."

"Okay, I'm out," Derek said, walking away.

But, Casey glowered and grabbed his wrist. "Derek," she chided.

"Fine. What do we need to do now, Nigel?"

"Settle your accounts."

They watched him curiously as he set down his magazine and stood.

"But...I thought the government was paying," Derek said blankly.

"He's being figurative," Casey mumbled, "At least I hope...because, do you take Discover?"

"I am; don't fret," Nigel said. His smile was small and didn't quite reach his eyes. "This is the time where you are both free to share anything else you feel you need to with each other. Anything you've been keeping, or you feel may be separating you."

"We already know everything about each other," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

"Then—once again—this should be quite easy."

--

"I…I started hunting."

"What?"

"Me and Nigel," Derek explained, "We went out one time and I killed a deer."

"Why?" she asked, nose scrunching.

"Because I'm good at it; shooting. It's just a deer and it's okay."

She seemed uncomfortable and sent him that 'I'll probably nag you about this later' look, but sighed. "Fine. Sure. Thanks for sharing that, as ewwie as it might be."

He nodded. "It's your turn."

"I…um, I dunno…"

"Nothing?"

"Well, I don't really keep secrets, I guess."

"Oh," Derek sighed and turned to Nigel, "This is obviously going nowhe-"

"Except—_oh god_—except…"

Her face twisted as guilt and conviction suddenly thrust its way into to her chest.

"What is it?" Derek said warily, "I mean, whatever it is, it's okay. We've been through so much, I mean…what could it possibly-"

"I keep Ryan's ring," she blurted, cutting him off, "In my purse. And, I've tried, I've tried to throw it away, but I can't."

"Why would you keep that?"

His voice broke a little and Casey felt her chest tighten.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice tinging with anger, "How could you _not know_?"

She held her hand out, trying to pacify him. "I just don't, okay?"

But, his entire body tensed, his head shaking back and forth. His face paled and he asked, "Did you love him?"

"Derek, don't ask me that."

"_Why not?" _he whined.

Silence thundered and Derek jerked back from her. "Oh, god," he gasped, bending over, "No. No. No, this is not happening. I think I might literally be sick."

"This has nothing to do with how I felt about you, or how I _feel_ about you now. It's complicated and it just...He just made me feel safe, okay? The ring just makes me feel safe, okay; it's stupid."

"No. This has everything to do with everything!" he barked back at her. "God, I hate him," he swore, swinging his fist visciously in the air, "I _hate_ him!"

"Derek, it's just a ring."

"It's just a ring?" He gripped the chain on his neck, "Like this is just a necklace? What, you want me to wear it for four years and then tuck it away in your purse as you frolic off to the next fling?"

She felt like she'd been bitch slapped right across the face.

"Well, woop-de-freaking-doo," Derek cried, "I'm so glad we've cleared the air."

"Not quite, Derek," Nigel said lowly, pointedly.

Casey's face was red with pain and Derek shook his head dismissively at the therapist. "No way, Nigel, no way."

"_Now_, Derek," Nigel said, "You've waited long enough. In some sense…so have I."

Casey forced her eyes back up from the ground. "God, what's going on now?" she moaned.

"I'm on leave," Derek said quietly.

"What?"

"I'm not…fully discharged yet. I'm on leave. So, there might be a chance…if my knee heals and my mind heals…"

"No," Casey said, shaking her head desperately, "_No_."

"…I might have to go back for a while."

Her face was literally frozen as she stood there, stunned speechless like the wind had been punted out of her.

"And, you knew about this, Nigel?" she finally asked, still staring at Derek.

He wouldn't answer her.

"Casey," Derek tried.

"You know what's funny?" she said, interrupting him, "I don't even feel angry."

Derek walked towards her as her face crumpled.

"I just feel so damn…_sad_," she gasped painfully.

Her hand pressed to her chest as if she thought he might see it ripping from inside; but he didn't need to. He could see it all in her face.

It was hopeless, but he reached for her anyway; and it was like she was fighting him and clinging to him at the same time.

"Do you hate me, baby?"

"No," She grasped his face in her hands and brought their foreheads together, "I didn't tell you this, but it's the opposite, Derek; it's the _opposite._ _Please_. Don't leave me again."

His face flashed and twisted with pleasure and pain.

"I won't; they'll have to make me," he swore to her.

"But what if they do?" she sniffled.

He wanted to comfort her, comfort himself; but he couldn't. So he wrapped her up and shielded her head in his chest instead.

--


	12. Power, Struggles, Trees

**Wow!! I'm totally touched by all your thoughtful reviews. It's really nice to see people appreciate the effort you put into writing and to see you guys are on the same page with me. **

**This chapter literally wrote itself...bygones…**

**Somewhat transitional, more angst to be had later...**

**--**

**11: Power, Struggles, Trees**

--

The wood split in half as she walked up to the cabin, and Derek left the axe there as he watched anxiously.

"Casey," he squeaked, awkwardly wiping the sweat from his hands on his discarded shirt, "You're here."

"I left something," she muttered coldly.

"Right. Obviously. Okay."

She marched past him and he swallowed before hurrying after her, up the steps and into the cabin.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Her voice was hollow as she took the steps upstairs and he shrugged.

"No reason," he lied, "It's just...we haven't really had a chance to talk about the other day."

"What about the other day?"

Her bedroom door shut in his face, almost slapping his nose, and he paused, annoyed, before pulling it open.

"What the hell?"

"I don't. Want. To talk to you," she said snottily.

"Yeah. 'Mr. Door' wrote me a note. Casey," he grasped her arm and she shoved him back. Hard.

"So you're okay and you're not upset?" he grumbled, "You just don't want to touch me?"

"Bingo!" she said harshly, "Give him a prize."

He grabbed her by her shoulders, even lifting her slightly, her toes tracing the floor as he forced her to the wall.

"You said you weren't angry with me," he gritted.

"I _lied_," she said, smacking his hands away, "I am angry. I'm so fucking angry with you right now."

Her fingers grasped his belt and unclasped it.

"What the hell, Case?"

She tugged hard and his hips bucked forward. "Let's just get this over with."

"Stop it," he hissed.

"Why? We're just gonna end up doing this anyway, right? Screwing each other—physically and emotionally just so we can feel good?"

"_Yes_," he said roughly, "We have sex. We be together. And we feel really fucking good. If you don't believe that then what the hell are we doing?"

"Does this feel good to you?" she demanded and he didn't know how to respond since she was currently sliding the belt from around his waist, "'Cause it feels horrible to me. It feels like I can't control myself with you anymore. And, no matter how much I try to stop it, no matter how much I try these stupid exercises and sessions, no matter how much I try to get away from you, I can't. I just can't. And it just. Keeps. Getting. _Worst_," she said and her hand jerked, snatching the belt from its loops.

The metal of the buckle clanged against the floor and his pants sagged.

"_Casey_," he hissed, his eyes shaking helplessly.

He felt an aching, hot, ruthless grinding in his gut as she unzipped him, his jeans dropping to the floor and leaving only boxers.

"Do you want me to take you right here? What do you want me to do?" he gritted, finally gripping her fingers on his waistband, "Take you like some easy score I don't care about? Is that what you want?"

"I want you to hurt for me like I hurt for you."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"You're about to find out."

She tugged hard on his waist band and he instantly tugged back up, his face burning. "Stop it. Now. _I mean it_."

His voice was so desperate, stern, that she obeyed him, angrily stepping back.

"You're right," she breathed, "You're _far_ from a 'sex god'."

He'd never been so turned on and off in his entire life.

"Don't provoke me."

"Please. When you stop wearing Superman boxers, then you can threaten me."

"Not a fan of them, huh? Is that why you were so damn quick to try to get them off me?"

"I hate you," she barked.

"No, you don't," he said, grabbing her, which was awkward since his pants were chaining him at his ankles, "Hate is the _opposite_ of what's going on here," he said pointedly. She bristled and he finished, "On _both_ sides, Casey—oh, god, shit!"

He hissed, winching and gripping his knee where she'd kicked the hell out of him. He struggled to balance himself, but his leg finally gave and he collapsed, tangled up in pain and clothing.

"Casey," he cried, face twisting, "Are you trying to hurt me?"

"_Yes_," she said honestly, "I hate that stupid knee. And I _hate_ when men tell you how much they 'care about you after doing really shitty things."

"You _hit me_," he said back at her.

"Honestly? You should be happy I didn't jam a rusty knife into it. I hate that knee, I hate it."

"Well, I hate it, too!"

"I hate it more!"

"No, _I_ hate it more!"

"No, me!"

"Me!"

Somehow she'd gotten on the ground and they were wrestling each other, like they you used it high school on the carpet for a damn remote or something. But, he was so much stronger than her now and he pinned her.

"I _win_. As usual," he growled at her.

"Is that why your pants are around your ankles, little 'Clarkie'?"

"God, Casey; stop it, " he cursed, "Damnit, you make it so hard for me."

His face pinched and it her made neck flush.

"So I win."

"Yes," he said weakly, "Ungh."

She yanked hard and his pants came up around him between them. He swallowed as she zipped him up, biting into his lip.

"You smell good," he rasped randomly.

"You don't. You need a shower."

"Yes," he said again, rolling up on his elbow and sitting. He sat there, hunched over and he felt like a four-year-old, his cheeks burning.

"Leave me alone," he said.

"I want to. I don't even like you half the time."

"Why are you still _here_?" he near-whined.

She didn't know. And, she huffed before heading for the door, leaving him there.

--

"Derek hasn't been over to see you," Nigel said, failing ginormously at any form of subtlety.

"Yeaaah," Casey said awkwardly, "About that…we sort of…did some semi-nude wrestling and haven't talked since."

His eyes popped. "Is that—is that slang for-?"

"No, I'm being literal; it was weird, don't ask me how. And, I don't even know why I'm still talking to you, or men in general for that matter," Casey griped, jerkily wiping butter on her toast.

The therapist sighed.

"You know I couldn't tell you, Casey. I care for you, probably more than I should as your therapist, but I do. And, I don't like to keep things from you, but it was Derek's choice. And, frankly…I think he made the right decision."

"_What?_"

"Casey, with your abandonment issues-"

"Don't say it like that. Like I'm damaged or something."

He was silent for a moment. Then continued quietly, "You're not at the point where you can easily open to people on any deep level unless you're guaranteed security. Which is _literally_ impossible."

Casey sighed, dropping her knife and shaking her head towards the window.

"I think…I think I might have really hurt his feelings."

"How so?" Nigel asked patiently.

"I kind of…torture teased him, quasi-stripped him and then…insulted his manhood. Multiple times."

"So um...fun date," Nigel deadpanned.

She ignored that.

"He just…he makes me feel so vulnerable and so damn needy. And sometimes when I'm really angry and bitchy I just want to make him feel that, too. And, I know it's twisted."

"You know you must..."

"Make yourself vulnerable and apologizie," Casey finished for him, annoyed before she bit into some toast.

He nodded. "Right.'

--

"Nig-Casey!" Derek cried, startled as at her sudden appearance at the therapist's front door.

"Derek, hey," she chirped anxiously, "It's been a while, huh?"

"Yeah; whatever."

She hated when he said that and she sighed as he looked over her head.

"Where's Nigel?"

"Why?"

He quirked a brow blankly. "Because it's his house. And, he's my shrink and I'd like to speak to him," he answered slowly, "What are you, his secretary now?"

He brushed past her and Casey squirmed helplessly before blurting, "You're not small."

"What?" he said, turning back.

"You're not small," she repeated, this time more quietly, "Down there."

"Stop it," he hissed, his face reddening angrily. He stiffened, "Don't talk to me about that. Ever," he growled, and she was jarred by the venom there.

"Well, can I talk to you about anything?"

"No."

Her cheeks heated. "God, you're being such a baby."

"And, you're being such a _bitch_."

Not the first time she'd been called that. Was the first time it made her winch.

"I'm a _man_. And, you treat me like-" His head shook and she could see the veins stretching in his neck, "I don't need you."

He sounded like he was still trying to convince himself, but it still stung.

"Now where's Nigel?"

"He's in his office," she said, swallowing.

He started down the hallway. "And, my knee's better. Not that'd you care. You probably want me on crutches or a wheel chair so you could push me around even more, like an idiot."

He slammed the door.

--

He unlocked the cabin door, juggling bags of grocery he'd probably gotten wrong—Casey usually did this for him—and shoved it open.

Then he froze when he saw the aforementioned Casey in his living room. In her underwear. Standing there. In her underwear….

"What are you doing?" he gawked.

"Um." She shifted awkwardly, " Being vulnerable?"

"No. You're not being vulnerable. You're being hot," he said annoyed, and heading tensely to the kitchen.

"Well…" She didn't know how to respond to that, so she followed him. "I feel vulnerable."

"Oh, god, give me a freaking break. You're beautiful. And, you come in here all coy like, like your Jan Brady or something."

He rolled his eyes. Then he dropped the groceries and walked past her again to the fridge, trying to ignore her.

"You are…_impossible_," he finally grumbled to a Yoohoo, which she knew he couldn't really be referring to since he never spoke ill of them. He glanced agitatedly over his shoulder, "What are you still doing here?"

"You keep saying that," Casey cried, exasperated, "What do you want me to do? Do you really want me to pack up and leave or something?"

"No," he said loudly, instantly, and he couldn't even look at her, his gut twisting. "But—and I never thought I'd have to say this to you—but could you please put some clothes on? I mean seriously, what are you lately? Anti-fabric or something? Are you like staging a protest?"

Her lip twitched unexpectedly, involuntarily at his bone dry humor. But, then she grimaced. "I sort of…don't have any."

"What?"

"Well," She looked sheepish, swaying her shoulders, "I knew there was a chance you'd be out. And, I wanted the full effect, even if you saw me like a mile out or something."

"But, how'd you get out of Nige-?"

"I climbed down a tree," she blurted, blushing.

"Oh. My. God."

--

"Thank you," Casey said when she finally came back down the stairs, swallowed in Derek's clothing, his favorite type: bland, worn tee and unmatching, ugly pants (rolled over three times).

His hand was scrubbing his face, trying to cover how annoyingly endearing he found her.

"If Nigel found out about that hoochie tree-climbing stunt, I'd be in so much trouble. You're not gonna tell him, are you?"

His chest tugged lightly, but tenderly.

"No," he said softly.

"Good. Okay."

They stared at each other. She worried her lip.

"I kind of need you," Casey said finally, "So bad that I think I became this freaky, 'bitchy', witch or something, I dunno. And, it's like…I don't want to hurt you, but if I don't, you'll go away. And, if I do, you'll stay; but I still won't have you."

"You can always have me," he whispered, eyes watching the ground. "I just…I want you to treat me like a man."

"I know, I know. And, I'm sorry," she said, running to him the moment she sensed he was open to it, and latching her arms around his waist. He didn't hug her back, but she held on anyway.

"S'okay."

"I forget that you're like…insecure about these things or whatever-"

"I'm not insecure," he said, stiffening, "I have _nothing_ to be insecure about."

"I know," she said instantly, "And, I could see that."

Her eyes were wide, innocent, and he searched them diligently for any mistruth. She felt like she was taking a polygraph, until finally he relented, still frowning slightly, but appeased.

She rubbed his arm gently. "Can I watch you chop wood?"

"Are you just saying that?" he mumbled.

She blinked and lied for him, "No."

"Okay."

He could keep the smile from his lips, but not his eyes as they headed for the door.

--


	13. Right Lane Open, No Traffic Until Exit 5

**Less angst in this part to give us all a break. Sometimes **_**I**_** even feel uncomfortable writing them, but it's fun nonetheless ;)**

**Hope you enjoy…**

**--**

**12: Right Lane Open, No Traffic Until Exit 56**

**--**

Watching Derek chop wood wasn't sexy.

It was damn-sexy.

Which was bizarre considering how lame it had always sounded. But, he was grunting, and swinging hard, almost glaring as he made a show for her. Casey felt her tummy quiver.

"I cleared out the fireplace. There was still some soot in it, but I cleaned it for you."

"Unh huh," she said absently, fingers grazing her collarbone as she watched him.

"Can you cook for me though?" he asked, face tensing as he swung sharply into another piece, "I have all this food, but I can't-"

"Mmmhmm," she mumbled.

He turned at her interruption and cocked a brow. "Are you listening to me?"

"No," she admitted.

His axe slumped a little. "Because you're bored?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Because…?" His face scrunched as he saw and _felt_ her eyes raking over his body, her gaze fogging into a familiar expression, "Because I'm turning you on?"

"Yes."

"_Yes,_" he cried and thrust his axe into another block. He left it there and faced her, standing straight, his chest puffed. "Now say it again."

She stood for him, even though—honestly?—this kind of ticked her off, and walked over to him. "You're sexy chopping wood. You're a _big_, strong man, you ass."

He was sweaty and he smelled a little again, but she kissed his jaw anyway. And—honestly?—it actually felt really good when he hugged her to him.

--

"We're gonna need a lot of counseling," Casey murmured as she watched him devour her abandoned pork chop, "And, a lot of time."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

He had some sauce on his chin she rubbed it with her thumb, bringing it to her mouth and sucking on it.

"It just feels like the more intense we get, the heavier all the baggage gets, too. I mean…I don't even know why you're talking to me right now."

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, finally and reluctantly dragging his eyes away from her mouth.

"I pretty much castrated you."

He grimaced at her wording. But, then he said. "It only hurts so much because it feel so good. And kills not to have it."

Her eyes scrunched as he continued.

"You make me feel so…" his eyes clouded a little, and he shook his head, "I can't say it."

"Please?" she asked.

"No, I mean I literally can't. I don't know how to."

"Oh," she said quietly. She didn't understand, but she nodded.

"We just, we need to work on the pain part. And, I'm gonna get better. You're gonna help me. I'll be better, stronger and you'll get better, too. I'll be better…"

He was starting to talk in circles and she was having trouble following him.

"…and then I'll be better and I can take care of you. There's space you know, good square footage-"

She squinted at him, leaning forward.

"You could dance, or whatever, if you wanted and I painted your room for you. Or-or we could use mine," he said, his cheeks pinking, "It doesn't matter, it's just…we'll be better. It hurts, but it's better."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, "Just forget it." He dug the heel of his palm into his forehead, shaking his head, "Forget I said that. It's stupid. I just mean that everything's going to be okay. We'll be together and it will be okay."

"If you have to go away…"

"Casey," he hissed.

"We have to talk about this."

"Fine, but just slow down a little bit, okay?"

"I can't," she cried, "Because we don't have _time_. I thought we had time, Derek, but we don't. And, we just have so much crap to work out, and we're both hurting so much-"

"Casey, please," he begged, her his hand reaching to cover hers, "Please, slow down."

He ate more food, quickly, but his eyes were on her, anxious, and she could tell he was thinking something.

"Why don't you move back in here?"

"Because we'd _literally_ destroy each other, Derek."

"I know," he groaned, his fork hitting the table, "But, I miss you."

"We still see each other all the time."

"But, before you were here. With me. And, I don't know…" He swallowed and shook his head, "I don't know how long it's gonna take to do this…."

"Well, do we want to do it right?" she asked, "Or do we wanna just do it?"

"Nigel, Nigel said that's paradoxical, or something," Derek explained, seemingly merging in from a different conversation, "That in order to be together, sometimes you have to be apart. I don't wanna do that, Casey."

It was her turn to swerve in from another lane.

"I really hurt you. And, I feel like shit about that. And, you're really hurting me, too. Just by being here and dangling," she said, her hands miming desperately, "Dangling, like anything could just take you away."

"I'm not dangling, I'm right here. I already said that."

"Yeah, for now maybe. But you said you wouldn't leave me again either. Ever. And you_ lied_. Right to my face. Oh god, I'm sorry," Casey said and he could see her face twisting before she covered it, "I'm getting angry again."

"I did lie," Derek said darkly. "That's why I hate fucking promises. I won't make you any more."

"Fine," she sniffled.

"Stop crying. Please."

His own hands were blocking his face now, as he leaned over.

"I don't want to hate you. And, I don't," she said, "But, when I'm not angry at you I feel so much pain."

Derek stiffened and he asked her, finally peaking. "Do you regret it? Do you regret...?"

He couldn't finish.

"Regret _what_, Derek? We haven't done anything yet to regret. I was standing her in my damn underwear and you still haven't done anything to regret."

"Did you want me to do something?"

"No. And, yes. Mostly no, I guess, or yes maybe?"

She rolled her eyes at herself and Derek sighed heavily, rubbing his cheek.

"Why don't you just stay here today?" he asked softly, "We can just…hang out. No strings or angsty stuff."

"No," she answered.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm mad at you," she muttered.

"You're always mad at me."

"So?" She pouted, "And, I want my pork chop back."

"Well, you can't have it."

Her fork moved with a flash and she stole some from him. But, he simply grasped the back of her chair, scooted her close to him, and shared it.

--

He dried the plate and asked her, "When's the last time you danced?"

"Phew." Casey blew out a long breath, eyes drifting up in thought, "A few years maybe?"

"Why'd you stop?"

"I dunno. Got busy….?"

He gave her a sidways glance and shifted towards her. "Would you dance for me?"

"What?"

Her full attention was on him now as she turned from the sink, slipping off her dish gloves.

"Please?"

"Why do you even want to see me? You always picked on me and checked out all my friends."

"No, I was checking you out, too," he said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, but something about his expression was warm and she found herself shrugging.

"Good," he whispered.

--

"Good," he whispered, his mouth twitching as his gaze followed intensely, eyes touching her.

"I'm just stretching," she said, squinting from the floor.

"Right." He blinked, "Of course."

She was forcing herself into a split and she winched. "This used to be so much easier."

She finally gave up about an inch from the ground—which Derek found pretty freaking fantastic—but she frowned.

"Dangit. Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever."

She looked up to glare at him—she hated when he said that—but his eyes were cloudy again, and she found that cute.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, almost eagerly, as she pulled herself up.

"I don't know. I haven't exactly practiced in a while."

"It'll be good," he said hurriedly, "I know it."

"Well, you really liked my stretching, so that kinda lowers the bar."

She sent him a wry, yet affectionate look. "What do you like?"

"Spinning," he said sheepishly, "And jumping."

"Fine. But I won't jiggle."

She smiled at him and his lips quirked back.

"I'll like it. Whatever it is, I'll like it."

She wondered if he'd suddenly developed superpowers, or basic woman literacy, and sensed that she was actually a little nervous.

"Okay," she said quietly, "Are you sure you don't want to dance with me?

"No," he said instantly, firmly, and took a seat on his recliner, "I wanna watch."

"Okay."

She turned, back facing him, and started. His chest squeezed.

Because watching Casey dance for him wasn't sexy.

It was damn-sexy.

--

"That was so good," Derek said, still smiling like an idiot as the door shut behind them.

It was dark, but they were still heading for the water, Derek's hand on the small of her back, just over her wrap as he guided her. "I told you I'd like it," he rambled on, "I really liked it."

"You said that already," she mumbled, but she was smiling. Her lips quirked even more when she glanced down at him. "Cute trunks."

He blushed a little at the orange fabric. "It's all I had clean."

--

"You know," he muttered when the water licked his feet, "The next time I'm blindfolded, it better be wet and sexy, not wet and creepy."

Casey returned to his side, having pulled off her wrap. "Do you like that?" she asked him, and he was surprised to see she was almost completely serious, curious.

"Unh…I'm sorry, my brain's imploding right now. Can you try back later?"

He laughed a little, breathless and she shrugged.

"It's good to be studious, ask questions."

"I'll remember that," he murmured, watching her step deeper into water.

She grasped his hand and asked, "Come with me?"

He nodded and tangled their hands tighter.

--


	14. Fighting, Acceptance

**Thanks to all of you guys who have hung in there with me throughout this fic. It is nearing the end (just a heads up). And, I hope to get the next parts out as soon as I can (although, as I've said, I think they'll be more difficult to write). **

**Either way, I want to continue to encourage you guys that I won't abandon this fic or anything (I'm just a born multi-tasker is all) :)**

**Hope you enjoy...**

--

**13: Fighting, Acceptance **

--

"Harder," Derek said.

"I don't want to."

"I know you don't want to, but you have to. You need it harder, so it hurts."

"Ungh, okay."

Casey stepped back, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, and then jerked forward, slapping his palm with her fist.

"You hit like a girl-ah-shit—yeah, that's it! That's it." He hissed, but he was smiling, "Good job."

"How could anyone enjoy that?" Casey said, nose scrunching as they fell from their sparring stances.

Derek quirked a brow. "So you didn't get a rush out of hitting me?"

"No," she said. Then she smirked and swung again, his hand barely catching her fist.

"You're getting slow, old man."

"And, you're getting sexy, lady. I love a woman who can fight."

"Any woman, or one in particular?" she asked, winking.

He smirked and smacked his hand at her, slowly, so she could feel all badass and stop him.

"Ha! Gotcha," she cried.

"No, I got you," he said, turning her—a little meanly, because of course she'd put up a fight—so her back was to his chest.

"You really like doing this?" Casey asked suddenly.

She let her head fall back to his shoulder so she could see him, and Derek's brows scrunched. He shrugged.

"Yeah. I mean…some parts I hate, some parts I like."

"Which parts do you like?"

"I like power," he whispered lowly to her, "And, control. Over other people and things. And, I like to win."

She was pretty sure that should have sounded dark and heartfelt, not weirdly hot. Yeah, she'd been spending way too much time with this man.

"Am I creeping you out?" he whispered when she'd been quiet.

"No," she said honestly. She turned to him, so she was facing him. "You used to be so scrawny…"

"Scrappy," he corrected her.

"And, honestly, on a good day I could have probably beaten the shit out of you."

"Now, that's hot," he said with a smirk.

"But, you're all…" She sighed, brushing imaginary lint from his chest, "Grown up or whatever."

He detected a hint of wistfulness in her voice. But, she didn't continue. And, he didn't press.

"Want to see what else I can do?"

--

Derek really _did_ work well under pressure. And, he'd spent years trying to impress countless women. So Casey watching him wield a gun? No problem.

He glanced over his shoulder. "You sure it won't bother you to see how good I am at this?"

Casey snorted. "Well, you'll have to show me fir-"

Three sharp shots later and the targets were shattered.

"Yeah, so that was pretty damn good."

--

"Would you stop smirking and help me, already?" Casey said, scowling at him.

No. He wouldn't. "I just need to put these up, okay, babe…_y_," he added quickly, "_Bab-y._"

Casey huffed and made a show out of her aggravation as he set up the targets. Cute, awkward Derek was still going strong; but the cocky, ass-like Derek--the one that had first so annoyed and enthralled her--was steadily making a comeback.

He walked over to her with that swagger she'd resurrected—that also annoyed and enthralled her—and held out the gun.

"Now, this is something I never thought I'd do for you," she said, taking it.

"Come on, Case. All we've been through—including blindfolds and a twenty-four hour thumb wrestling contest—and this is the most surprising?"

"Yes," she said.

She shifted the gun in her hand, her fingers running it. He read her gaze and he could see the wonder there, the disbelief that she was actually considering this. He sort of totally felt the same way. But, there was something so sexy—in a surprisingly unsexual way—about her trying this for him.

"So, what do I do?" she asked, turning to him.

"First? Point it away from me."

"Oh, right."

His gaze was somewhere between amused and horrified as he watched her, waiting, until she finally shifted her aim. He nodded and moved closer.

"The rest is kind of trial and error," he explained, "I'm gonna take off the safety. And, then you're gonna shoot."

"Okay," she said slowly. Her face scrunched and she glanced at him. "Is this legal?"

"Not at all, no. Anything else you wanna ask?"

"I think it's better if I don't."

"I agree. Now again," he said, stepping back, "Please. Point it away from me."

"Right; right, sorry."

She pointed back towards the targets, and Derek's hand covered hers, gingerly slipping it from her grasp. "Ya know. Why don't I show you some more first, 'kay?"

"Why, so you can show off?"

"Yes."

A grin slapped his cheeks as he took it form her. She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, too as he got into position.

"You gotta just block everything else out and focus. Keep your arms straight, shoulders forward, like I showed you. Don't flinch. Don't even really think too much; just aim and convince yourself you're gonna hit it."

"Have you shot someone before?" Casey blurted.

She saw his shoulders stiffen and he stood there for a moment, before finally facing her.

"Yes."

"Did you like…want to?"

"I hit them, so yes, I wanted, too. I don't really miss or make mistakes when I'm in the zone."

"Did it feel good?" she questioned and she had no idea why she was letting herself ask him these things, or why he was letting her for that matter.

But, he was calm, almost sure as he faced her.

"Different times it felt different ways. But, I like shooting, yes."

"Okay, I get it."

She took the gun and he wasn't sure if she meant his confession, how to shoot, or both as she aimed it.

She sighed as her finger brushed the trigger. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I knew what it felt like for you to be out there."

"I don't want you to," he said quietly, watching her hesitant form.

"But, you enjoyed it. A lot of it, right? I mean, there was guilt, pain; but there was pleasure, too."

"Yes," he admitted softly.

"Would you do it again?" she asked him.

"I might not have a choice."

"But, if you did?"

He felt a crackling in his chest, like something was breaking, but it didn't hurt. "Yes," he answered honestly.

Casey fired the gun, recoiling slightly from the force of it. But, then she fired again. And, then once more until she hit the edge of one of the bigger targets.

"Yeah," she whispered, "I get it."

--

"I should probably head back," Casey murmured.

She and Derek were sitting on his porch as the sun set, their legs entwined lazily as Derek sipped a beer.

"Wanna ride?"

"Nah. There's still some light, and it's nice out."

"Okay," he mumbled.

"I had fun today—or…" Her face scrunched, thinking, "Or at least something like it," she finished with a wry smirk.

Derek nodded wordlessly.

"Nigel says we're nearing the end of the road, you know?" Casey continued, "I mean obviously both us should probably stay in therapy until someone buries us, but you know…we have to make some decisions."

"I know," he said, staring off.

"And, your knee's getting better, I can see it."

"I know," he said again.

She sighed, brushing some hair from her face, when her phone moaned, vibrating on the steps. Her boot accidentally punched it and it skid across toward Derek.

"I got it," he muttered.

"No, wait."

"It's fine," he said, lips quirking now as he set down his beer, "What? Is it your secret boy…friend?"

His lips thinned as he read the screen. "It's a text. From 'RLove.'"

"Ugh, I told you not to," she groaned, snatching it from him, "It's nothing. I just never changed the name on my phone, that's all."

"I don't care that you didn't change his name," Derek said tightly, "Although, yeah, frankly it's kind of gross. I care that he's calling you."

"He's not calling me. They're just messages. And, I _never_ respond. Okay?"

When Derek just sat there, his entire body stiff, she sighed and scooted towards him, slipping her phone in her back pocket. "You trust me? Right, baby?" she whispered, rubbing his back.

He mumbled and didn't look at her, "Yeah."

--

"Is this normal, Nigel?" Derek asked, "To hold on like this? Rings and text messages?"

"Well, she's said that it's one-side communication, no?"

"Yes, but," Derek sighed and his eyes shut for a moment, "I don't know if I believe her."

"And, why is that?"

"Because. I..."

"You've lied to her before," Nigel finished quietly for him.

"Yes," Derek said stiffly, "And, I now she's still angry and insecure. And, that he makes her..." He could barely say it, "Feel safe," he finally spat out.

"Perhaps you should express these concerns to her."

"No. She's already knows how I feel. And, if I ask her again it will seem like I don't trust her. But, if I don't...I won't ever know." He sighed and looked back up at the therapist. "What should I do?"

"I can't answer that for you, Derek," Nigel said tiredly, "But, I can tell you what you must not do..."

--

He did it anyway. And, yeah, he felt pretty shitty about going through her things, but it was literally going to drive him insane if he couldn't figure this out. So when he heard her head for the shower, he'd snuck smoothly upstairs into the guestroom.

But, apparently, not smoothly enough.

"Derek?"

"Oh, shit," he whispered.

"What are you doing in my room?"

She dropped her wash cloth next to the bath soap she'd apparently forgotten on her dresseer and glared at him.

"I uh..."

"Let me guess: looking for this?" she asked, lifting the cell from the under a shirt on the dresser.

"No," he said instantly.

She huffed. "I thought you said you trusted me."

"I do," he said and he was actually almost sure he meant it, "But come on, Case! He's sending you texts and you're hiding your phone from me like a treasure map; and you don't expect me to freak out a little?"

"I already told you. I don't respond to them."

"Then why does he keep sending them?"

"I don't know, okay!" she finally shouted, her patience blowing away.

"Right. You don't know anything important, do you?"

"Hey. I'm not the liar here," she hissed at him.

"Oh, but I am?"

"Well, if the army boots fit."

"Heh. You know what? Why don't you go text your boyfriend about how much I pissed you off?"

"_Hey!_" she cried, grabbing his arm roughly before he could storm off, "You don't get to talk to me like that. Not after you kept that _whopper _of a secret from me."

"And, what? You stowing promise rings and feelings for your ex is peachy keen? And, don't tell me it makes you feel 'safe'," he growled, "Because if you wanted to feel safe you should have just stayed in London and kept the damn ring on your finger."

Her breath hitched, her hand jumping from him; and both their faces were red as they stared at each other.

"Did you say that just to hurt me?"

"Casey-"

"Because, you know what? I _was_ afraid, Derek. I was really afraid. And, I felt safe and comfortable and happy, and I didn't want to leave all that to come out to some piece of shit cabin in the middle of nowhere to be some with some guy who acts like an ass all the time."

"But, you _did,_" Derek cried, "You did it for me."

She huffed and turned from him.

"You've done so much for me. But, I need you, I need you to stop talking to him—I'm not saying you are or you aren't, just don't," he said when her face tensed.

He sighed and walked closer to her, his voice desperate. "And, I need…I _need you_ to get rid of that_ ring._"

"Derek," she whispered.

"I know you have it; I know you do."

He jerked and then he was rifling through her purse before she could stop him. And, she didn't want him to. She felt helpless and terrified, but she didn't want him to stop.

"Get rid of it," he said again, dropping the bag and holding it when he finally found the silver ring.

"I can't," she breathed.

"Yes, you can. You _can. _You're strong. You're a rock," he said for her. And he meant it.

"Please," Derek asked her, forcing it into her tight fist, "Please, baby?"

She turned away from him and she could feel the tension stinging and building in her chest as she stared at the trash bin.

"Do it," Derek begged, his dignity discarded, "If not for you, then do it for me. _Please?"_

She felt her her heart twisting, but she felt it even more when she saw Derek, saw the hope slipping from him. She sighed. And then she tossed it the trash.

"_Oh god_," she heard him cry behind her.

Then she felt him grasp her arm, pulling her towards him. But, when she faced him, her face was twisted, and there was no such ecstasy there.

"I feel so scared, Derek. All the time."

"I know. I do, too. All the time," he repeated roughly, "Scared that I'm not good enough, or that I can't make you happy. That I'll go crazy one day or that I'll die out there. I'm scared, too. But let's be scared together."

"But, if you don't come back..."

"Then I don't come back," he said, accepting it, "But, 'us' doesn't end. 'Us' never stops; no matter what, okay? I _promise_."

He cradled her face desperately in his hands. "You believe, don't you, baby?"

"Yes," she whispered.

And she did.

--


	15. Rough Road Home

**Muchas thanks to my reviewers (as usual :) ) **

**Here's the next part. Transitional again, but I'll probably have the next chappy out soon enough. And, don't worry--despite all the angst-- our favorite clueless heroes will be getting together (finally) very soon.**

**Oh, yeah, and any unanswered questions about this chapter should be answered in the next few.**

**Hope you enjoy...**

--

**14: Rough Road Home**

--

"He's acting strange," Casey said quietly to Nigel, "We said...a lot of things to each other the other night. And instead of feeling like we're closer, it's like he...withdrew, or something." Her brows bunched and she looked down at her fingers, and then back at Nigel, "Does that make any like 'shrink sense' to you?"

"It could mean a lot of things."

"Yeah," she said, stretching the word out, "That's sort of what I'm freaking out about."

"He seems very committed though," Nigel added quickly and leaning forward in his desk, "If that's what you're worried about."

"No, no; it's not that. In a way, Derek and I have been 'committed' to each other--whether we liked it or not--for a while now. I mean, even when I was with Ryan I felt guilty and unfaithful, all the time." She chewed her lip, "I think that's why he finally called things off."

Nigel arched a curious brow. "Unfaithful to whom?"

"Casey, hey, we need to talk."

Both necks craned to Derek, who had burst into the office, looking more than a little frazzled.

"Um, later," Casey said to Nigel, holding up her pointer finger.

The therapist watched silently as she stood and followed Derek out the room.

--

"I wanna take you home with me."

"Okay," Casey said, watching curiously as she and Derek stood on Nigel's porch, "And, do you wanna leave me there or something...? Because you've been kind of ghosty lately."

"Right," Derek said, pretty much ignoring her comment, "Well, is that a yes, or a no?"

"Yes; of course."

She was really squinting at him now as he shifted on his feet, limbs moving agitatedly.

"Nigel, Nigel said it would be good closure, or unclosure, or whatever."

"Yeah," she whispered, confused, but letting her fingers brush against his nervous hand, "It will be good for you."

"And, for us."

"Okay," she said slowly.

"I need to go," he blurted and moved down the first few steps.

"Like to Australia, or the cabin, or what?" she asked, frustrated.

"Just out of town for a while. I'll be back in a day or so and then we can go, okay, baby?"

She shook her head, baffled as he hurried off. And, when she turned back to the house, she could have sworn she'd seen the blinds quickly closing.

--

On the third day, Casey glared at Nigel across the breakfast table. "What did you do to him?"

The therapist cleared his throat before sipping from his cup with forced casualness. "Whatever do you mean?"

"No, B.S.ing, Nigel, I'm serious. He was acting all kooky and now he's disappeared for three days; not two."

"He's fine," Nigel murmured calmly.

"Well, I'm not fine. I wanna know what's wrong with my..." She paused, flustered, "My...whatever he is; he's mine."

"Well, you're certainly starting to sound like him at least."

Casey huffed and looked resignedly out the window. "He's not shooting things or anything, is he?"

"No," Nigel answered honestly.

"Ugh, okay..."

--

When Derek finally returned the next morning, Casey didn't see him, she heard him. And Nigel. Arguing apparently. She slipped a robe on over her pajams and hurried down the steps.

"...think about this," Nigel was saying firmly.

"I'm not a child, I can--Casey," Derek said, sending Nigel an alarmed and pointed look, "Hey, baby."

"Don't 'hey, baby', me," she hissed, walking closer to the two men, "Where were you?"

"Out of town. I said that already."

"Yeah, and how fabulously detail-less it was. And are you okay? What's going on?"

She stared at him. He looked horrible. Like he'd forgotten what sleep was. And his hair and clothes were completely and utterly disheveled. He was tense, but he let her reach for him, her arms slipping somewhat protectively around his waist.

"I'm fine. You ready to go?"

"Derek," she sighed.

She glanced to Nigel who had a similar look of agitation on his face.

"Everything's fine," he assured them, his thumb brushing roughly by her neck, "I just planned things to work on a certain time frame and we're already behind."

"For what?" Casey asked, exasperated.

"Just get ready, will you? And, I'll change, too."

"No," she said firmly, "You're worrying me here. What's going on?"

"The only thing going on is that we're late for our trip back home," Derek answered, voice harder now as he shifted from her, "So unless you want me to drive like even more of the mad man that I literally am, I'd hurry up."

"Ugh, you-"

"Perhaps you should go," Nigel said to Casey, exchanging a wary look with Derek, "You can discuss everything on the way, it's quite a trip. And, you were planning on going anyway, no?"

She looked between the two males and definitely felt a little ambushed. "Fine," she finally hissed, turning to Derek with a glare, "But, we are definitely discussing this during the trip."

--

"We are not discussing this during the trip," Derek said as he threw another bag into the back of his car.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a long, hard drive; and I don't want to have another sort of long, hard, over emotional drive going on with you at the same time."

"Then let me drive," she said instantly.

"Heh. Still not happening."

He slammed the trunk and she was angry at him; but when she looked at him, all she saw was exhaustion, anxiety, and nerves.

"Derek, what is going on?"

"I don't know," he sighed, rubbing roughly through his hair, "I think I'm just freaking out a little bit about this whole home thing."

"Why?" she asked softly, coming around the back to stand closer to him, "It's home. Everyone will be so ridiculously stoked to see you."

"No, to see Derek," he said lowly.

"Last time I checked you _wer_e Derek, right?" she smoothed a teasing, yet affectionate hand down his cheek, "Or are you Juan Venturi; his evil yet ravishingly handsome twin?"

"Stop it," he muttered.

Her hand stiffened and moved.

"Not the touching," he whispered.

"Well..." She sighed and let her hand brush his again before taking it back, "It's a little hard to want to when you're being all rude and cryptic with me."

"Forget it, just forget it," he said, heading for the driver's side door, "I'm just freaking out and I'll calm down on the drive; it's nothing."

"So is 'nothing' why you disappeared for four days?"

"I didn't disappear," he said, turning back to Casey, who had followed him.

"Well, I didn't know where the hell you were, so what would you call that?"

"Space," he said tersely.

She huffed at him and he rolled his eyes.

"I just needed some time to clear my head about some things."

"And, your head just can't be clear around me?"

"No," he said smirking, but with no amusement, "Absolutely not."

--

"Do you feel suffocated?" Casey asked.

They were about an hour into a five hour drive, and had before then managed to avoid any substantial conversation.

"Well, it's a little warm, yeah, but I'm fine. You can roll down a window if you wan-"

"Not literally," Casey snapped, earning a quirked brow from the driver, "I mean by me."

"What are you talking about, Casey?" he said with a tired sigh.

"This whole random 'space' thing less than a week after you were all promises and love songs."

"I didn't want space from you," Derek said, his hands strangling the steering wheel in frustration, "I _needed_ space from you in order to figure things out."

"Figure what things out?" she questioned.

"Me things, okay?"

"You don't get to have 'me' things anymore. It's 'us' things. And, what you do happens to have a sort ginormous effect on me."

"And, that's why I need to figure out _what I'm doing_!" he shouted, his right hand slamming the console in frustration.

"Well, maybe I could help you. Did you ever consider that?"

"Do you wanna know what would be really helpful from you right now? Backing off."

She grumbled under her breath, "Right; and life is _so_ much better with you now that I tossed the ring."

His head jerked. And he had to fight to keep his heated eyes on the road and not on her. "What the hell? Why would you say that? Why would you even bring that up to me?" When she ignored him, pulling her own glower out at the window, he growled, "Answer me!"

"You answer my questions, and then maybe I'll consider answering some of yours," she barked back.

Derek bristled, his jaw tightening, before his eyes steeled on the road.

--

Derek was still tense when he reached the gas station, pulling the car up with a jerk to the pump.

"Need anything?" he muttered, not even looking at her.

"Coffee...and you would be nice, please."

He glanced over at her, eyes narrowed and confused. "What are you saying?"

"Where the hell have you been for the last week?" she hissed at him. "You went on this whole crazy and romantic rant about being together and then you just--poof--pulled an Ass-dini."

"Casey," he said lowly, "This _is_ me."

"No, it isn't," she said, turning back from him.

"Fine; whatever."

He slammed the door and headed for the pump. He slipped in his card, and started fueling it, and he could feel her gaze on him the whole time, unrelenting.

When he reentered the car with a sigh, he reached for her, his hand stroking her neck where she liked it. She let him for only a second, before jerking from him.

"Let me touch you, baby."

"No," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes were tired as they slid to him, "We can't touch each other there anyway, so it'll be good practice."

He shifted back into his seat, squirming slightly.

"Nigel and I were talking...and he said that since we're home anyway, we might as well take advantage of the opportunity. You know, to...tell them."

"Tell them what?" Casey muttered.

"About us."

"What about us?" she shot back again, voice edgy.

Derek flinched, tensing.

"_Hey," _he said, "You're not allowed to do that anymore."

She huffed, but didn't fight him as her hand rubbed her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Derek sighed, a shuddery, but relieved sound, "Look. Let's just try to survive this weekend, okay? And, if you don't want to tell them...or touch me," he added lowly, "That's fine."

"Good," Casey said, arms crossing protectively over her chest, "Because, honestly, I don't feel like doing either of those things."

Derek glowered as she continued.

"And, you might as well take that off," She said of the necklace, "There's no way we'll able to explain that."

"I can't."

"Derek," she sighed.

"No. I literally can't," he explained, "I knotted it, so I can't take it off or it will be completely broken. So I can't."

"Why would you do that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Why do you think?" he said bitterly before hitting the gas.

--


	16. Housewarming

**I love you guys, I really do :) Much thanks to my reviewers, as always!**

**Hopefully this part will be refreshingly not angsty ;)**

**I broke it up into two parts. More time with the family and heavier issues will follow there.  
**

**Hope you enjoy...**

--

**15: Housewarming **

--

Derek was alone behind the wheel. It hadn't taken much time after their tense discussion for Casey to climb into the backseat, ignoring him. She'd slipped a quilt over herself--which he'd guessed meant she was sleeping--and left him in the silence.

He watched her in the rearview mirror, stuck somewhere between relief and longing, until he finally saw her stir.

There was some more movement in the heap of hair and cloth, and his eyes darted instantly away. It was still silent, but she was sitting upright now. He could feel her eyes on him, and then see them as he glanced back in the mirror. They were scrunched, as if considering something.

"You cold?" he murmured dumbly, just to be speaking.

She didn't answer and then her scent was around him, followed by her arms, and her hands as she they slipped under his shirt, reaching for the golden "C." His eyes darted between her and the road as she fingered it, staring.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

She sighed. "I just want you," she whispered, voice mingled with softness and resignation.

His own breath shook up his chest, and he grasped her hand, kissing it.

"I just want you, too."

"I feel like you're pulling away," she said, sounding intense and distant at once, "But, you keep telling me you're not. I…I don't know what to think."

His mouth thinned. His brows furrowed with indecision before he spoke. "The reason I left-"

"You don't have to tell me; that's not the point. Just tell me you won't leave me and I'll believe you."

"You know I can't promise that," he said.

"Just say it."

"Casey," he chided.

She sighed and slipped from him, falling back against the seat.

"Does this mean we're unmade up?" he asked tiredly.

"No," she mumbled, "It just means I'm sad."

"Casey," he breathed, "Baby. Come up here."

He glanced into the side mirror this time, catching her rubbing her forehead, eyes closed.

"This is driving me crazy," she said, "You're like vapor, or something."

He didn't understand her, so he said it again. "Come up here, baby."

He heard another sigh and some shifting and then she was squeezing her way between the two front seats.

"Buckle up; I'm a crazy driver," he quipped. He didn't smile.

When she finished, he took her hand and clasped it by his knee. His thumb rubbed her bare ring finger. She watched him and swallowed.

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"Taking it off; getting rid of it."

"No."

"I know," he said, although he sounded more than a little relieved, "We both…we both say things we don't mean."

She sighed. "Can I say something I do mean?"

He glanced back at her, silent. She looked like she might cry or laugh or both.

"I'm pretty much stuck on you," she said breathily, "Even if it is emotional suicide."

"Casey-"

"No regrets," she said over him.

She reached back for the necklace, kissing it. Then she lowered it and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

His lips whined when hers left, and his gaze followed her, something clicking in his chest, as she went on.

"After we get back..." Casey sighed, rubbing his palm and shifting their hands up a little higher on his leg, "Do you think maybe...maybe we'll be...ready?"

The brown of his eyes deepened intensely, his chin bobbing slightly as he watched her.

"Nigel keeps saying we're making progress, you know? And, it will be hard, but…I mean we couldn't like, but you know... maybe if we started slow and…"

"We couldn't go too slow," he told her, "We'd have just go. Just in case…"

He trailed off, too, their hands gripping tightly in his lap.

"Okay," she whispered back. "God…" she stopped with real, harder laughter, "This is so insane."

"Yes."

He lifted her hand and kissed it again, but he was watching her mouth.

"Derek!"

"Road; right, sorry."

--

"Why don't you tell me about everyone?" Derek said, "Catch me up some more."

"Heh." Casey ran her hand through her hair, "Where to start..."

"Anywhere."

"Well…" she sighed, "Lizzie got this _horrible_ haircut. She was going for the short do, but it ended up more like a jagged bowl cut…"

Derek grimaced.

"Yeah, don't bring it up. But, other than that," she shrugged, "I think she's really stoked about starting her senior year, looking into different schools, you know."

"Sounds familiar," he said wryly. "What about Ed?"

Casey snorted. "He's trying to start his own business. Something about used windshield wipers, I dunno."

"Ah, Edwino."

"Yeah." She smiled. "Our parents seem cool. George got that promotion. And, they finally got a maid to come once a week so the house isn't a complete zoo."

"Yeah, I miss that," he said, smirking.

"Not the smell though, I'm sure."

"Eh, well, it was home."

They smiled at each other. But, Casey dropped hers when she looked away.

"And, um," she cleared her throat, "There's Marti."

Derek stiffened slightly.

"She misses you tons, of course. I think I'd probably have to thumb wrestle her to see who missed you more. But, you're her 'Smerek' so I think she'd gnaw my thumb off if she had too. That came out more gruesome than I meant it to," she said awkwardly.

His head ducked. "I don't know what she's expecting of me, you know?".

"She just wants to be with her big bro, that's all. That's all everyone wants, Derek; just to be with you."

He was still stiff, eyes drowning in worry, so she continued.

"And, maybe I don't tell you this enough, but you're are _so_ much better, Derek. I mean you've healed so much-"

"Not enough," he said, "I'll never be able to go back."

"Maybe that's not entirely a bad thing."

"Right," he muttered, "Because sanity is so last season."

She sighed. "That's not what I meant, Derek. You've matured. And, you're skilled, a leader. And…it's weird, but I feel like even though it's been so incredibly hard for you, that you've learned to open up…so more deeply."

Derek was wordless as he stared ahead.

"I'd never wish what happened to you to happen again. But, I think--I think it's made you stronger in a lot of ways. And, all we have to do now is just heal a little more; just keeping healing. And, until then, until you make it, that's what family's for."

"And, you," he murmured, his hand squeezing hers.

"And me, baby."

He didn't ask her to, but she leaned over anyway, sliding her arm through his, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

--

"How do I look?" he asked in the driveway, still sheltered in the parked car.

"Disheveled," Casey said warmly, "And, handsome. Perfect."

His lips tilted somewhat wryly, but appreciatively.

"Thanks, babe."

He only realized after what he'd called her. When she didn't correct him, his brow quirked, but he didn't comment.

"Maybe we could just stay here for a sec," he said anxiously, "You know, prepare for-"

"_AHHHHHH!!" "OH, MY GOD, DEREK!"_

He jerked, eyes widening in shock as his door was ripped open, several spastic women reaching for him and suffocating him in a bundle of hair and tears.

"Ungh, um, hi?"

"You're here!" Lizzie cried, eyes red, "You're here!"

"I-I'm here," he stuttered.

He couldn't see her—he couldn't see much of anything—but he heard the car door open, the click of heels as Casey came around.

"You guys have to let him breathe," she said, although she was grinning.

"SMEREK!"

"Ohmph!"

He almost collapsed under the hugs when Marti added her weight, pouncing onto his back. She started kissing his face, all over. "Smerek!" she cried again.

"Oh, god, okay, Smarti; you're getting a little old for this."

"Move out the way; move out the way! That's my boy!"

They didn't move. Instead George, a newly arrived and hooting Edwin, and--somewhat inexplicably--Casey, all buried him in a group hug.

"I…can't…breathe," Derek gasped.

"You're talking; that means you're breathing," Casey said, her head somewhere by his right ear.

"Oh, we love you so much, Derek," Nora said, sniffling.

"We're so proud of you," Lizzie said.

"You're the man, D!" Edwin cried.

There was a series of other jumbled praises, before they finally released him. Everyone but Marti of course.

"Come in; come in," Nora said, gripping him by the arm, "I cooked your favorite foods."

He felt a grin bursting through his lips and murmured, "_Sweet_."

--

"You look so handsome," Nora said, shoving a plate of near-toppling food in front of him.

"Yeah, you're ripped," Edwin gawked beside him, "Can you show me some workouts?"

"Don't stroke his ego too much," Casey mumbled, trying damn hard and failing not to beam at Derek.

"Heh," George chuckled, "You might actually be able to beat me in an arm wrestling match now."

"Count on it," Derek said, cutting into his steak.

"No, no; not before a basketball game," Edwin said, "You still owe me one from before you left."

"Edwin," Nora chided, "You know with his knee-"

"No, it's fine, Nora. I can try."

Edwin pumped his fist. "Awesome."

"Well, we'll have to make sure to give him some rest, too," George interjected, "Right after the arm wrestling and ESPN of course."

"Of course, Dad," Derek said, chuckling.

He glanced down at his sister, who was latched around his midsection beside him and smiled. "Uh, Marti? This is whole eating thing's a little hard to do with you stuck to me."

"Sorry," she said, but didn't move.

"S'okay, Smarti."

Casey slid his plate over, and started cutting his food for him.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, but he tried to keep it brief, polite.

"I never thought I'd see the day you two got along," Nora said.

"Sans a house party or a car accident," George inserted.

"_Hey_," Derek and Casey said at once.

"Well, it's sort of ridiculously true," Lizzie said, "It's what makes you two so… 'loveable'," she said cheekily.

"Pfft. Please. Everyone knows _I'm_ the loveable one," Derek snarked.

"More like the obnoxious, smelly one."

"Hey; I stopped smelling years ago."

"Ugh, whatever—_what_?" Casey squeaked, realizing everyone was staring at them.

"Nothing," George said wistfully, "It's just…good to have it all back, ya know."

He swallowed slightly, and reached over to pat his son's head. Derek's own gaze gentled.

"Heh; let's not get all 'girly', here, 'kay?" Derek said, clearing his throat.

"Right," George agreed, "We're men."

He nodded to Edwin and they all pounded their fists to their chests. Then they burped. Loudly.

"Oh, god," Nora breathed. "Now this I didn't miss."

--

"Hey, hey; slow down," Derek called to Casey as they approached the trunk of the car. It was literally the first moment the family had let them out of their sight, and only so they could get their luggage.

Casey's brows bunched and she clicked it open anyway. "What? Why? It's chilly."

"I know. But I just realized something. These might be the last seconds we have alone together," he said dryly.

"That's a _good _thing, Derek. I've had you all to myself since you got back. And," she pouted somewhat teasingly, "I have to learn to share."

"Well, don't make it a habit."

He smirked; and his hand reached to touch her cheek, when she blurted, "Hey. No touchy touchy here, remember?"

"What? I thought you just said that 'cause we were fighting...?"

"No, I meant it. Everyone's watching. Like uber-watching. So we have to play it down, okay? Just for this weekend."

Derek sighed. "Casey."

"Aren't you happy?" she asked him.

"Well, yeah." He shrugged and couldn't help the smile tugging at his lip, "Pretty damn stoked, actually."

"Well, let's keep it that way, alright?" she whispered to him, "I want you to be happy. For you to just enjoy this weekend, and avoid any major bombshells."

He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "We might not be able to, even if we want to."

"What do you mean?"

"Casey. After a while, they'll start asking questions…about my time there and my knee and...everything…"

"Well, let's pass that bridge when it comes, okay?" She broke her own rule and her hands tugged his briefly. "Tonight is just about you, me, and…"

"_Ryan?_"

"What?"

She squinted and spun around, her eyes landing on a tall, blonde man exiting his car. "Oh, shit."

--

**Sorry for the cliffie. I know; I hate myself right now :(!**

**Oh, and no worries, there will be significant Dasey next chapter. ')  
**


End file.
